The Walking Dead: Sophia
by BewareTheWalkers
Summary: After leaving the CDC, Dale's R.V. breaks down on the way to Fort Benning. Walkers come and Sophia runs. Carl gets shot. The barn is full of walkers. Hershel goes missing, and the group faces a new threat when Glenn, Rick, and Clary bring Hershel and someone else back to the farm. AN: I don't own any characters except for Clary. Rated T for cussing and gore.
1. Prologue

Yesterday, my best friend Carl found out that his dad is alive. Carl's about three months younger than me, with dark brown hair and blue eyes. The only problem was I found out my oldest brother, Merle Dixon, is handcuffed to a roof.

Merle and I aren't close, that's my other brother Daryl and I. To be honest, Merle's a bit of a jerk. Still, Merle's family. Daryl, who's about fifteen years older than me, is on a hunt, trying to find food for the camp. Daryl, with dark brown hair, a wisp of a goatee, and green eyes, isn't close to Merle either. Still, we'd do anything for family. Merle's about nine years older than Daryl, and they aren't close, but we're Dixons, and Dixons stick together.

Since we don't have anything else to do, Carl, Sophia, another girl at camp, and I are out playing in the woods. Carl nudges my arm. "You okay, Clary?"

"Yeah," I say, "I just hope Daryl gets back soon."

Before Carl says anything, Sophia screams. I look ahead of her and see a walker feeding on a dead deer. Carl yells for his dad, Rick, and his mom, Lori. Sophia yells for her mom, Carol.

"Merle!" I yell, out of habit, for he's normally at camp. Then, I remember he's handcuffed to a roof in Atlanta. So, I yell for the sheriff, Shane. "Shane!"

We turn around and run. I can hear the others running through the woods towards us. Shane puts his hands on my shoulders and sends me, along with Carl and Sophia, back to camp. I go sit inside Dale's R.V.

Dale's the kind of guy that everyone gets along with. He's in his early sixties, with gray hair and a bit of a beard. He keeps watch on top of the R.V. all day. After a minute or two, I hear the others come back. Daryl's voice rings out above the other voices. "Clary! Merle! Get your asses out here! I got squirrels!"

Shane tries to tell Daryl about what happened, and I'm still in the R.V. I hear yelling, from Rick, Shane, and Daryl. I glance out the door and see that Daryl's going after Rick with his knife. I run out of the R.V. "Daryl!"

He stops long enough to look at me. Shane knocks the knife out of his hand and puts my brother in a choke hold. "Hey!" I cry. "Choke holds are illegal!"

I kick Shane and he lets go of Daryl, surprised. Shane looks at me. "It's illegal to assault a police officer."

"Yeah, so are choke holds, jackass," Daryl says, scrambling to his feet. We stand back to back. "That's my baby sister!"

"I ain't your 'baby sister!'" I say.

"Yeah, but your younger."

"Not important, big brother."

"Look, Daryl, Clary, your brother is a danger to us all," Rick says.

"It's my fault. I dropped the key," T-Dog says.

"Couldn't you just pick it up?" Daryl cries.

"I dropped it down a drain. But, when I ran, I stopped long enough to chain the door with a padlock. The staircase is narrow, no more than six walkers can fit in it at one time. And that ain't enough to break the chain or padlock."

"What's your point?"

"Merle is still up there, still alive."

"Yeah, I'm sure he is." Daryl drops his guard at that, and Shane takes a swing. Surprised, Daryl doesn't block it. I step in to block the blow, but I don't raise my guard in time. Shane's fist connects with my jaw and I fall back into my brother. That doesn't help the situation. Daryl sticks up for me, and if someone hurts me, they get it.

My brother gets up to fight Shane, but I lay my hand on his shoulder, telling him to stop. Daryl nods and sits back down next to me. He gingerly turns my head towards him and lightly touches my jaw, causing me to wince. "Sorry," my brother says.

Shane leans down next to me, and Daryl scoots closer to me. Shane gets the message and stands up. Daryl stands up and pulls me with him. "Are you okay?" Daryl asks.

"Yeah," I say, though I took my hair down from its ponytail so it covers the bruise that's already starting to form.

Daryl looks at Rick, his voice cracking. "Just tell me where he is, so I can go get 'em."

"He'll show you," Lori says.

Rick nods. "I'm going back."

Daryl walks off, and so does Rick. They meet back up ten minutes later, and decide to take T-Dog and Glenn with them. They leave, driving back into the city. My brother looks at me and nods before he closes the door to the truck.

Carl, Carol, and Sophia come over and make sure I'm okay. I assure them I am, and Carol seems to understand. That night, I sit with Carl and Lori at the campfire. Before I can stop him, Carl reaches up and pushes my hair away, revealing the long bruise covering my left cheek and jaw. I push my hair back in place as quickly as possible.

We sit around the campfire, finishing the fish that Amy and Andrea caught, when suddenly Amy screams. We turn to see a walker biting her arm. People start screaming and more walkers are coming. Lori and Carl take cover, and Shane pushes me down. He starts firing at the walkers. The camp is being overrun. More of our campers are being killed that the ones surviving.

Carol, Sophia, Lori, Carl and I stay next to Shane. He's making his way towards the R.V., just like everyone else. A walker Shane didn't see is almost on me. I scream, and see a knife handle protrude from the back of its skull. The walker drops to the ground, and I see Daryl behind it, looking as if he just threw a knife. "Daryl!" I cry.

The group's back. I've never been more happy to see my brother. They shoot walkers left and right, until they're all dead again. Daryl drops his crossbow and I run to him. He picks me up and spins around, while I bury my face in his neck. "Where's Merle?" I ask, once he sets me down.

Daryl pauses. "We couldn't find him, Clary."


	2. What Lies Ahead

We tried the Center for Disease Control, and found nothing. Jacqui was killed there, and we lost Jim on the way to the CDC. Now, we've decided that we'll try for Fort Benning. Daryl and I lead the caravan that now consists of Dale's RV, Carol's Cherokee, and Merle's motorcycle. Daryl's truck ran out of gas, so he started driving Merle's motorcycle, which is now his since Merle's most likely dead.

We come to an area on a highway that's barricaded by abandoned and overturned cars. Daryl and I circle back around, turning back the way we came. We stop next to Dale's RV, and Dale looks out the window. "See a way through?"

Daryl gestures for him to follow us, and we turn around. We lead the caravan around an overturned tractor and trailer, and through other cars. I look over my shoulder when I hear an engine sputtering, and see steam rising from Dale's RV. We stop, and I follow Daryl to the rest of the group. "Okay, that was dumb," Dale says.

"What was dumb?" I ask.

"I was getting ready to say we were in the middle of nowhere with no hope of getting a new hose."

Daryl walks over to one of the cars, examining whatever he finds. "If you can't find a radiator hose here," Shane says.

"There's a whole bunch of stuff we could find," Daryl says.

"I can siphon more fuel from these cars for a start," T-Dog says, walking forward with a gas can in one hand and a hose in the other.

"Maybe some food or water," I suggest.

"This is a graveyard," Lori says. "I don't know how I feel about this."

Shane sends us off to gather what we can, and Lori, Carol, Sophia, Carl and I walk away from the RV. Normally, I'd stay close to Daryl, but I trust Dale. I trust him enough that I leave my crossbow on Daryl's motorcycle. Carol picks up a red v-neck t-shirt, and holds it to her chest. Lori looks at her, and Carol gives her a small smile. "Ed never let me wear nice things like this."

"Keep it," I say. "It looks good on you. Red's a good color on you."

Her smile widens at that. I climb up on the roof of a nearby Ford truck and look around. I see Rick aiming his rifle at something, then he turns and runs toward us. I slide off the roof and hit the ground. "Carl, Sophia, Clary, get under the cars," Rick whispers, but his tone says that if he could yell, he would.

I pull Sophia under the truck I was standing on, and Carl hides under the car next to us. Sophia clutches her doll, breathing hard as Rick dives under the car next to Carl. I tap her shoulder, and she looks at me. I use my hand to tell her to breathe slowly, and show her how she needs to slow her breathing. She breathes with me, slow and steady. Walkers stumble past us, walking forward. I know it only takes a few minutes, but it feels like hours. Once they finally pass, Carl looks over at us and smiles. He looks over at Rick hiding under the other car. Sophia and I check each side for walkers, and I don't see any. Sophia gives a surprised and scared gasp when a walker starts growling. I look back over and see a walker laying down on the ground, trying to reach Sophia. We scoot the way I looked, and I come out from under the truck first. I jump over the guard rail and land on my feet, and I yelp in surprise as the ground under me gives way. I tumble down the hill, sticks scratching my face and arms. Sophia crawls under the railing, and slides down the hill. We scramble to our feet as two walkers come down the hill after us.

"C'mon!" I cry, and take off running, pulling the younger girl behind me. She still carries her doll, even though I would have dropped it by now. We keep running, and I can hear the walkers behind us. Sophia trips, and I fall over her. We scramble to our feet again, when something catches Sophia by the waist. I reach for my crossbow, then remember I don't have it. It's probably a good thing, too, or else I would have accidentally killed Rick. Sophia grabs for his gun. "Shoot them!"

"No, no," Rick says. "Those walkers on the road would hear it. Then, there wouldn't be two, there'd be hundreds."

"Rick," I ask, "where's Daryl? Is he okay?"

"I–I don't know. I came after you two right away. Now, come on."

Rick stands, and picks Sophia up. He carries her to a riverbank, and I follow them, glancing over my shoulder for the walkers. Rick sets Sophia down, then jumps in the water. He catches her when she jumps, and I jump into the water after him. We hurry over to a fallen tree, and the roots form a small cage. "You need to do exactly as I say," Rick says, and points to the cluster of roots. "Hide in there. I'll draw them away from you."

"No, don't leave," Sophia says.

"Sophia," I say, looking into her green eyes. "I'll stay with you. Rick will come back for us. Now, c'mon. We don't have time for chit-chat."

I push Sophia into the cluster of roots, and climb in after her. Rick stands back, and I can hear the walkers getting closer. He looks at us. "If I don't make it back, run back to the highway. The way we came, and keep the sun on your left shoulder. Clary, take care of her."

The walkers have found Rick. He splashes water at them. "Come on! You ugly son of a bitch! Come on!"

Rick backs up as one walkers falls into the creek. The walker ignores us, his attention on Rick. He leads the two walkers away, and the forest soon grows quiet. A minute later, I can hear faint rustling. I look at Sophia. "Listen to me," I whisper. "More walkers are coming. I'll draw them away, and you stay here."

I scramble out of the cluster of roots as the rustling gets louder. I glance from the riverbank to Sophia, over and over. "Remember what Rick said, okay? If I don't make it back, go back the way we came and keep the sun on your left shoulder. Stay here, Sophia. I'll be back."

The rustling stops—the walkers have found me. I look up to see three walkers standing at the bank, looking at me like a lion looks at its prey. "My day just keeps getting better and better," I mutter, then splash water at the walkers. "Come on! You ugly bitches! Fresh meat!"

I back up as the first two walkers fall into the creek. I turn and run, taunting the two walkers in the creek. The third one follows on the riverbank. I trip and fall into the water, cursing under my breath. I get back on my feet and keep running. I make it out of the creek, on the side opposite of the walker on dry land, and keep running. I run past a place that had once been a camp, but had since been overrun. Luckily, there aren't any walkers there. I trip over a root, and see a screwdriver. I pick it up as I scramble to my feet, not bothering to wonder how it got there. I run and hide behind a tree, and wait for the walkers. I hear one, and turn. I drive the screwdriver into its eye socket, and push it to the ground. I pull the screwdriver out and stab it in the head again, ignoring all the blood that's spraying on me. I get to my feet again as the second walker appears. I do the same to it as I did to the first, once again ignoring all the blood. I drop the screwdriver, now too bloody to hold, and pick up a rock.

The third walker stumbles into the clearing, and I throw the rock at it. It hit its head, and the walker goes down. I pick up the rock again, and stand over the walker. I slam the rock into the walker's head, crushing its skull on impact. I get back up and hurry back to the creek, to find that Sophia's gone, and Rick's back. "Rick!" I cry, and run to him.

"Clary!" Rick says, and catches me from falling into the creek. He leads the way back to the highway, where there's no sign of Sophia. Daryl runs over to me as soon as I climb over the guard rail. He wraps his arms around me, and we fall to our knees. "Oh, God, Clary!" Daryl says into my hair. "Don't ever do that again, dammit! You scared the shit out of me."

He pulls back and looks at me, and notices that my once white shirt is now covered in blood, and so is my face. My hair is matted with walker blood in the front. My face and arms are covered in scratches from rolling down the hill and tripping when I was running. "Clary, what the hell happened to you?"

"I had to kill three walkers, and I didn't have my crossbow or knife." I glance down at the blood. "It's not mine." Before Carol can say anything, I hastily add, "Or Sophia's."

Rick assembles a group consisting of himself, Daryl, Shane, Glenn and I to go back and look for Sophia. I go get my crossbow and knife, and follow the others to where Sophia and I were hiding. Daryl examines it. "You sure this is the spot?"

"We left her right here," Rick says, and points the way he ran. "I drew the walkers off in that direction."

I point in the opposite direction. "That's the way I drew my three. She was gone by the time we got back. I think I speak for Rick when I say that we figured she took off and ran back to the group."

Rick nods, and points to the way we first came. "I told her to go that way, and keep the sun on her left shoulder."

Daryl walks over and looks at where a trail left by Sophia. I study it with him, and realize Glenn is standing on the trail. Daryl realizes it as well. "Hey, Short Round, you mind standing off to one side? You're mucking up the trail."

Glenn moves. "That is assuming she knows her left from her right," Shane says.

"Shane, she's twelve. She knows her left and right," I say. "She understood us fine."

"Kid's tired and scared. She had her a close call with two walkers, which reminds me, you weren't too scared."

I look up at him. "I don't scare easily. I wanted to get Sophia some place safe, then kill the walkers. Then, Rick showed up."

"Anyway," Shane says, waving off what I said, "you gotta wonder how much of what both of you said stuck."

"Got clear prints right here," I say, pointing to the trail.

"Yeah, she did like you said. She headed back to the highway," Daryl says. "Let's spread out. She couldn't have gotten far."

Shane pulls Daryl up the bank, and I take Glenn's hand. He pulls me up, and I reach back to help Rick up. He takes my hand, and I help him up the slippery bank. "We'll find her. She'll be hiding in a bush somewhere. You and me, we'll be the ones to find her. We're the ones that lost her."

Rick nods and gives me a small smile. I turn and follow Daryl, who's still following the trail. He kneels, studying it. "She was doing just fine till right here. All she had to so was keep going." Daryl looks at me. "Verdict?"

I kneel, studying the trail, and point to my right. "She veered off that way."

"Why would she do that?" Glenn asks.

I look up at him. "Something scared her off. Hopefully not, but a walker would be a good bet. Something spooked her for sure, and made her run. The weird thing is, there's no other footprints. There's just her prints. She might have thought she heard a walker, and ran."

"So what do we do?" Shane asks. "All of us press on?"

"No, better if you and Glenn get back to the highway. People are gonna start panicking," Rick says. "You let them know we're on her trail, doing everything we can. But most of all, keep everybody calm."

"I'll keep 'em busy scavenging cars. Think up a few other chores. I'll keep 'em occupied. Come on."

I hug my knees to my chest, and close my eyes for a minute. I feel guilty about leaving Sophia by herself, and now she's missing. I open my eyes as Shane turns to go back to the highway, and Glenn follows him. As he walks past, Daryl catches his arm. He pulls him down and whispers something in his ear. Glenn nods, and stands up. He offers me his hand, and I look at Daryl. He nods once, telling me to take Glenn's outstretched hand. I take it, and follow Glenn back to the highway. He climbs over the guard rail, and I start to slide back down the hill, but he grabs my hand and pulls me over the guard rail. I nod my thanks, and walk over to Daryl's motorcycle. Lori follows me over, watching as I dig out a clean t-shirt. "How about I help you get cleaned up?" she asks.

I nod once, and she leads me to the RV, and I keep my eyes down as I walk past Carol. I follow Lori inside, and see blood on the floor. "What happened?" I ask.

"Andrea killed a walker when that... group passed."

"A herd, if that's what you'd call it. Actually, that sounds about right."

"Yeah, it does. Sit down."

I sit on one of the seats at the table, and Lori kneels in front of me. She opens a bottle of water she took from the refrigerator and pours it onto a cloth. She wipes the cloth on my face and hair until most of the blood is gone. I thank her, and she leaves as I change my shirt. I walk out of the RV and see Carl studying a truck on the other side of the highway. I walk over as he looks in the passenger side window. "What'd you find?" I ask.

"I think I found an arsenal," Carl says, glancing over his shoulder. I look inside, and see a rolled up collection of weapons next to a dead man's corpse. We walk around the other side, and he puts his hand on the door latch. Carl opens the door, and the man's hand hangs limply at his side. Carl glances back at me, and I nod. He carefully leans in the truck, reaching for the collection of weapons. He reaches across the dead man, and grabs the arsenal. It doesn't move, and Carl pulls harder. It still doesn't budge, and Carl climbs into the truck. He reaches for the weapons again, grunting as they slowly move. Suddenly, the corpse moves, and Carl and I shriek. He falls backwards out of the truck, and I land on my back, Carl on top of me. The corpse doesn't move again, and I realize it moved because Carl bumped it. Carl looks up at me, and we start laughing as he realizes the same thing. He gets to his feet and reaches down to help me up. I take his hand and he pulls me up. We hurry across the road. "Shane!" Carl calls.

"Carl!" Lori cries, running over. "Clary! What happened?"

"We found something cool." Carl unrolls the arsenal on the ground in front of the light green Hyundai Shane's working on. "Shane, check it out. It's an arsenal."

I kneel next to the arsenal and pull out a long knife curved at the end of the blade, examining it. "That's cool, bud," Shane says without looking up. "Go take 'em to Dale."

Carl pulls out a hatchet. "Check this one out. It's a hatchet."

"Careful, Carl, don't play with those," Lori says.

"This guy knew what was happening," I say. "These are seriously sharp."

"Hey, Clary, that goes for you, too."

I look up at Lori. "I know how to use these, Lori. Daryl taught me."

Lori raises her eyebrows, but before she can say anything, Carl speaks. "Hey, Mom, can I keep one?"

"What did I just say? Are you crazy?"

Carl looks up at his mother. "No way. Mom, I'm fourteen! I think I can be trusted."

"I said no."

"Shane, tell her to let me keep one."

"Go give 'em to Dale. Now. Clary, you can't keep one either."

Carl and I sigh, irritated, and I put the knife back. Carl rolls the arsenal up and takes it to Dale. I follow him, then stop when I hear a radio broadcast. Glenn, Dale, Andrea and I go back to the Hyundai. "What is that?" Glenn asks.

"Is that a local signal?" I ask.

"It's gotta be within fifty miles of here," Dale says.

The broadcast starts to repeat, and Shane turns it off. "Asshole. Okay, let's get back to work."

I turn and walk back to the RV, and take watch. I keep watch until sunset, when I see Daryl and Rick come out of the woods. "They're back," I call, and climb down the ladder.

I walk over to the guard rail, where everyone gathers as Rick climbs over the railing. "You didn't find her?" Carol asks, since Sophia's not with them.

"Her trail went cold. We'll pick it up again at first light," Rick explains.

"You can't leave my daughter out there on her own to spend the night alone in the woods."

"Out in the dark's no good," Daryl says. "We'd just be tripping over ourselves. More people getting lost."

"But she's twelve. She can't be out there alone. You didn't find anything?"

"I know this is hard," Rick says. "But I'm asking you not to panic. We know she was out there."

"And we tracked her for a while," Daryl adds.

"We have to make this an organized effort. Daryl and Clary know the woods better than anybody. I've asked Daryl to oversee this, and I want Clary to help him."

Carol looks at Daryl's jeans. "Is that blood?"

"We took down a walker."

"Walker? Oh my God."

"Don't worry, there was no sign it was near Sophia," Daryl says. "We cut the thing open, made sure. Had a woodchuck for lunch."

Carol sits on the guard rail, and Lori quickly joins her. Carol looks from Rick to me, and back again. "How could you just leave her out there to begin with? How could you leave her?" Carol asks.

"Those two walkers were on us," I say. "Rick drew them off to protect us. Then, three more came, and I couldn't take all of them at once in that creek. I didn't want one of them seeing Sophia hiding, and going after her. I drew them off to protect her. It was her best chance."

"Sounds like they didn't have a choice, Carol," Shane says.

"How was she supposed to find her way back on her own?" Carol asks. "She's just a child."

"It was our only option," Rick says softly, kneeling in front of Carol. "The only choice we could make."

"I'm sure nobody doubts that," Shane says.

Carol's quiet for a moment, looking at all of us in turn. "My little girl got left in the woods."

Rick walks off as Carol begin to cry. I wrap my arms around her. "I never should have left her alone. It's my fault, and I'm going to find Sophia. And she'll be perfectly fine." I pull back and look at Carol. "I'm going to find her."

I turn and walk away before I can see her reaction. I climb up on top of the Ford truck again and look around. Something taps my ankle, and I shriek and jump back, startled. I trip over my own feet and fall on my back, and end up falling off of the Ford. I get to my feet and look across the truck, a knife in my hand, to find a familiar face with dark eyes, and thick, dark hair hidden under a baseball cap looking at me. "Jesus, Glenn! You scared me! Don't do that again!"

Glenn laughs, and climbs up on the Ford. He reaches down to help me back up. "What happened to—" he imitates my voice, "'—I don't scare easily?'"

I take his hand and climb back up on the Ford. "I don't sound like that, Short Round, and you caught me off guard."

"Yeah, right."

I elbow him in the ribs, shaking my head and grinning. He's such an idiot.

* * *

The next day, the group gathers around one of the parked cars. Rick unrolls the arsenal on the hood of the car. "Everybody takes a weapon."

"These aren't the kind of weapons we need," Andrea argues. "What about the guns?"

"We've been over that," Shane says. "Daryl, Rick and I are carrying. We can't have people popping off rounds every time a tree rustles."

"It's not the trees I'm worried about."

"Say somebody happens to fire at the wrong moment, a herd happens to be passing by. Then, it's game over for all of us. So you need to get over it."

Glenn examines the long knife with the curved end that I looked at yesterday. "The idea is to take the creek about five miles, then turn around and come back down the other side," Daryl says.

"Chances are she'll be by the creek," I explain. "It's her only landmark. Stay quiet, and stay sharp. Keep space between you but always stay within sight of each other."

"Everybody assemble your packs," Shane commands.

"Dale," Rick says, turning to face the other man, "keep on those repairs. We've gotta get this RV ready to move."

"We won't stay here a minute longer than we have to," Dale assures him. "Good luck out there. Bring Sophia back."

I turn and follow Daryl over the guard rail and down the hill. The rest of the group, excluding Dale and T-Dog, follow a minute later. Daryl leads the single file line, and I stay behind Glenn. I keep my eyes peeled for a trail, or anything that would show that Sophia has been here. Daryl holds up his hand, telling us to stop. I look past him and see a green tent in a small clearing. "She could be in there," Shane says.

"Could be a lotta things in there," Daryl says. He starts forward, and Shane and Rick follow him. Daryl holds up his hand, telling them to stop, and pulls out his knife, then continues forward while Shane and Rick stay back. He drops his crossbow outside the tent, and examines it. Rick turns to us. "Carol, Clary."

We hurry forward. "Carol, call out softly. If she's in there, your voice should be the first she hears," Rick softly explains. "Clary, wait a minute, then call out. Your voice was the last one she heard."

We nod. "Sophia, sweetie," Carol softly calls. "Sophia, it's Mommy. Sophia, we're all here."

She looks at me, and nods. I take a small step forward. "Sophia, it's Clary. Are you in there? Come out, we're all out here. Sophia?"

"Sophia, it's Mommy," Carol calls. Rick and Shane walk forward as Daryl slowly unzips the tent. He steps inside, letting the tent flap close behind him. "Daryl?" Carol calls after a minute.

He steps outside, and motions me forward. I meet him, and he holds something out, a small revolver. I look at him, and he nods. I take it, and turn, tucking it under the waistband of my jeans. I cover it using my t-shirt, and Daryl faces the rest of the group. "It ain't her."

"What's in there?" Andrea asks.

"Some guy. Did what Jenner said. Opted out." Daryl swings his crossbow over his shoulder. "Ain't that what he called it?"

It's then that church bells start to ring. We look around, trying to decide where it's coming from. I point one way, and take off running. They follow me, and we come to a large clearing as the bells stop. There's a graveyard, and a large white church. "That can't be it," Shane says. "Got no steeple, no bells."

Rick pushes past me and runs down through the cemetery. I follow him. Shane calls after us. "Rick, Clary!"

Shane, Glenn and Daryl fall into step beside Rick and I as we reach the front of the church. Daryl puts his hand on my shoulder and pulls me behind him as Rick runs up the steps to the door. I stand back as Shane, Glenn and Daryl follow Rick up the steps. Carol and I stand at the base of the steps as Rick opens the door. I look past them, and see three walkers turning to face the door. I pass a machete from Lori to Rick as Shane walks inside. Rick follows him, and Glenn gives Daryl his knife as Daryl gives Glenn his crossbow. The three men bash the walkers's heads in until they can't anymore. Rick walks through the church, opening doors. "Sophia!"

I take Daryl's crossbow from Glenn and walk up the isle. I meet Daryl at the statue of Jesus on the cross, and give him his crossbow back. "Yo, J.C.," Daryl says, looking at the statue. "You taking requests?"

I take Glenn's knife, walk back down the isle, and give the knife back to Glenn. Shane faces Rick and I. "I'm telling you, this is the wrong church. It's got no steeple," he says.

The bells start ringing again, and Glenn and I are the first ones to react. We push past the rest of the group, and run outside, Daryl close on our heels. We run around the side of the church, and I look up. There's a speaker making the ringing. Glenn unplugs it, sighing. "A timer. It's on a timer," I say, and face the rest of the group. "It's on a timer."

Carol looks down. "I'm gonna go back in for a bit."

She turns and walks back inside the church, and most of the group follows her. I walk around the other side of the church, and hug my knees to my chest. I put my head in my hands. "I thought we found her, I thought we found her," I mutter. "I thought we found her."

"Clary?" comes a new voice. I look up to see Carl standing at the corner. I wipe my eyes. "Yeah?"

He kneels in front of me. "You okay?"

"Honestly, no. I left Sophia by herself and she ran off. It's my fault that she's missing."

"Clary, you can't possibly mean that."

"But I do mean it, Carl! I could have stayed quiet, and not walked out into the creek! The walkers could have just walked past, ignored us. But I left Sophia by herself, and she ran. I—" my voice cracks, "—I left Sophia by herself. I left her, and I promised I'd stay with her."

I put my head in my hands again, sobbing, and I feel Carl sit down beside me. After a second, he awkwardly slides his arm around my shoulders, unsure if he should. I lean into him, and he wraps his other arm around me. "It's okay, Clary. We'll find her, don't worry. We'll find her, and she'll be okay."

After a moment, I stop sobbing and pull back. "You really think that?"

"No," Carl says. "I know that."

I smile, and he gets to his feet. Carl holds his hand out, and I take it. We walk back to the front of the church and sit on the steps in silence. After a while, the rest of the group walks out of the church. Rick and Shane stand off to one side, and Carl walks over to Daryl. As they talk, they glance at me. Shane walks back over. "Y'all gonna follow the creek bed back. Daryl, you're in charge. Clary, Rick and I are gonna hang back, search this area another hour just to be thorough."

"You're splitting us up, taking my sister with you. You sure?" Daryl asks as I walk over and stand next to Rick.

"We'll catch up to you."

"I want to stay, to," Carl says. "I'm her friend."

Ricky's quiet. "Just be careful, okay?" Lori says.

"I will."

Rick offers Lori his gun. "Here, take this. Remember how to use it?"

She shakes her head. "I'm not taking it and leaving you unarmed."

Daryl offers her a gun, one that he must have gotten from the tent. "Here, I got a spare."

Lori takes it, and Andrea sighs, irritated. The group leaves as Carl walks over to us. "Give me a minute?" Rick asks.

Shane nods, and Rick goes inside the church. Carl, Shane and I sit on the steps and wait. After a while, Rick walks out. "Get what you needed?" Shane asks.

"Guess I'll find out," Rick says, walking off. We get up and follow him. Rick and I lead the way through the woods, Shane and Carl behind us. I hear branches snapping, and hold my hand up. The others stop. "Branches," I whisper, barely audible. "Keep your eyes and ears open."

They nod, and we continue. After another minute, I can see a deer in the woods ahead of us. I look at them over my shoulder. "Buck," I whisper in the same quiet tone.

I raise my crossbow to the deer as it wonders into a clearing in front if us. "Clary," Rick whispers.

I look to my right, and see Carl slowly walking past me. I lower my crossbow at he continues. He glances over his shoulder at us, and we smile, urging him on. Carl keeps walking, and softly snaps a branch. The deer looks at him, but doesn't run. Instead, the deer and Carl study each other. The deer lets him continue, and by now they're ten feet away from each other. They're five feet away, and Carl reaches out. Then, a gunshot rings out, and the deer drops to the ground. Carl falls backwards, his eyes closed, a bullet in his torso. I drop my crossbow and cover my mouth with my hands to stifle a scream, but a small one still escapes. "No!" Rick cries.

"Carl!" I cry. Shane, Rick and I run over, kneeling next to him as the blood stain on his shirt grows.


	3. Bloodletting

I run ahead of Rick, who carries a limp and unresponsive Carl in his arms. Shane's behind him, pulling a heavy man, Otis, along. He's the idiot who shot Carl. "Hey, you move, Shithead!" Shane yells at Otis. "Come on, get us there!"

"How far? How far?" I yell, stopping to look at them. "How far is it!"

"Half a mile that way," Otis calls, pointing. "Hershel! Talk to Hershel, he'll help the boy. Tell him Otis sent you."

Rick is ahead of me by now, but I turn and sprint as fast as I can towards Hershel's farmhouse. I look at Rick as I run past. "I'll go ahead, tell Hershel what happened."

Rick nods once, and I keep running as fast ad I can. I can see a beautiful two-story white farmhouse a little ways away, with a girl about Glenn's age standing on the wrap-around porch. She picks up a pair of binoculars and looks out at Rick as I run through the gate, not bothering to close it behind me. She turns. "Dad!" she yells.

She runs inside, and follows a group of people outside as I reach the steps. "Hershel!" I cry. "Who the hell is Hershel?"

A man in his sixties with white hair steps forward, looking past me at Rick and Carl. "Was he bit?" the man asks me.

"Shot by your man," I answer. "Are you Hershel?"

"That's me," the man says, walking down the steps to Rick and Carl. A woman Hershel's age with blonde hair follows him. "Otis?"

Behind Hershel and the woman, there's two teenagers; a girl with blonde hair and blue-green eyes, and a boy with short, dark hair and blue eyes. The girl that's Glenn's age, with chestnut brown hair cut into a bob and jade-green eyes, follows them down the steps. "Help me," Rick says, crossing the lawn. "Help my boy."

"Get him inside," Hershel says, turning to hurry inside. The group follows him, and I follow Rick. "Patricia, I need my full kit. Maggie, painkillers, coagulates, grab everything. Clean towels, sheets, alcohol." Hershel leads Rick into a spare bedroom, and throws all the blankets off the bed. "In here."

Rick lays his son down on the bed. "Pillowcase," Hershel says.

"Is he alive?" Rick asks.

"Pillowcase, quick."

I push past Rick and grab one of the spare pillows. I pull the pillowcase off while Rick stands back, clearly still in shock. "Is he alive?"

Hershel looks up at me. "Fold it, make a pad."

I do, and Hershel pulls Carl's shirt up so he can see the wound. "Put pressure in the wound."

I do, firmly pressing the pillowcase on the bullet hole as Hershel pulls out a stethoscope. He presses the metal end to Carl's chest. "I've got a heartbeat," Hershel reports. "It's faint, but it's a heartbeat."

The blonde woman that's Hershel's age, Patricia, tries to push past me. "I've got it, step back."

"Maggie, IV."

"We need some space," Patricia says. I've backed up, but Rick still stands close to the bed. I take his arm and pull him back. "C'mon, Carl's in good hands. I can tell."

"Your name?" Hershel asks.

"Rick," he answers, still in shock. "Rick. I'm–I'm Rick."

"Rick, we're gonna do everything we can, okay? You need to give us some room, and take the girl with you."

"I'm Clary," I say, and take Rick out of the room. I make him sit in a chair in the living room, and stand out on the porch. "Move!" Shane yells at Otis.

I turn as Rick comes outside, taking his hat off. Otis and Shane reach the porch. "He's alive?" Otis asks. "He's still alive?"

Rick rubs his forehead, unknowingly wiping Carl's blood on his face. Shane walks up the stairs as I walk down them, glaring at Otis. "He's alive."

Rick leads Shane inside, and I follow them. They walk into the spare room, where Hershel keeps pressure on Carl's wound. "Do you know his blood type?" Hershel asks.

"A-Positive, same as mine," Rick answers.

"That's fortunate. Don't wander far. I'm gonna need you."

"I'm O-Positive," I say.

Hershel looks at me. "You're O-Positive?"

I nod. "In case you need me, I'd be more than happy to help. He's my best friend. There's no way in hell I'm lettin' him die."

Hershel looks past me and at Otis, who stands in the doorway. "What happened?"

"I was tracking a buck," Otis answers, dumbfounded. "Bullet went through it. Went clean through."

"The deer slowed the bullet down, which certainly saved his life. But it did not go through clean. It broke up into pieces. If I can get the bullet fragments out and I'm counting six."

Otis walks over to Patricia, and takes her hands. "I never saw him, not until he was on the ground."

"Lori doesn't know," Rick says. "My wife doesn't know." Rick's voice cracks as he puts his head in his hands. "My wife doesn't know."

Shane convinces Rick to sit down, so we gather in the living room. "Why'd I let him come with us?" Rick asks. "I should've sent him with Lori."

"You know, you start that, you'll never get that monkey off your back," Shane says.

"Little girl goes missing, you look for her. Simple. You said call it, head back."

"Doesn't matter what I said."

"Carl got shot because I wouldn't cut back. It should be me in there."

"This is _not on you_," I hiss, tired of hearing Rick beat himself up over it. "This is on me. I left Sophia, and she went missing. Carl came, and got shot because of what I did. If anyone should be in there, it's me. It's my fault that Carl got shot, and it's my fault that he's layin' in there right now. Rick Grimes, it ain't your fault that he was shot. This one's on me. I should have been the one that got shot, not Carl."

"You've been there, Rick," Shane says. "And you pulled through. So will he."

"Is that why I got out of that hospital?" Rick asks. "Found my family for it to end here like this? This some kind of sick joke?"

"You stop it," Shane says. "Both of you. Just stop."

"A little girl goes missing, you look for her. It's plain and simple," I say.

Maggie, the girl that's Glenn's age, steps through the door. "Rick. He needs blood."

She holds the door open as Rick walks through. I follow him. Hershel looks at me. "You, I forget your name, the girl, hold him down."

Carl cries for his father as I lay my arm across his chest, holding him down. Shane appears next to me. "I got him."

I move, and Shane holds Carl down. He screams as Hershel digs a bullet fragment out. "Almost there."

Carl reaches for something to hold on to, and I give him my hand. He keeps a death grip on it as Hershel continues to dig the fragment out. He continues to scream, and Rick looks over his shoulder. "Stop! You're killing him!" Rick yells.

"Rick, do you want him to live?" Hershel asks calmly.

"He needs blood," Patricia says, and Rick stares at Carl.

"Rick, do it now!" I bark. Rick gives Patricia his arm, keeping his eyes on his son. I carefully wipe Carl's face, and his cries stop as he goes still. Pulling my hand back, I freeze. "Wait, wait, wait."

"He just passed out," Hershel explains. He pulls the bullet fragment out, Carl's chest rising and falling normally. He holds the bullet fragment up. "One down, five to go."

He drops the shrapnel in a bowl, and I follow Shane out of the room. I walk back into the room as Rick starts to speak. "Lori needs to be here. She doesn't even know what's going on. I've got to go find her, bring her back."

"You can't do that," Hershel says.

"She's his mother," Rick argues. "She needs to know what's happened. Her son's lying here, shot."

"And he's going to need more blood." Hershel looks up at Shane. "He can't go more than fifty feet from this bed."

"But that's what Clary's here for," Rick argues. "She's O-Positive, she can give blood."

Rick walks out of the spare room and into the living room, where Maggie and Otis sit. Shane and I follow him out. I close the door behind me. "He's stable for now," Shane reports.

Maggie closes her eyes, sighing in relief. Otis leans back into the chair, also sighing. "Lori has to be here, Shane, she has to know," Rick says.

"Okay, I get that. I'm gonna handle it. But you've got to handle your end."

"My end?"

"Your end is being here for your son. Even if he didn't need your blood to survive, there is no way I'd ever let you walk out that door. I mean, I'd break your legs if you tried. You know that, right?"

"I'd help him," I say. "There is no way I'd let you leave Carl right now."

"If something happened to him and you weren't here..." Shane pauses. "If he slipped away while you were gone, you'd never forgive yourself for that. And neither would Lori, man."

"You're right," Rick finally says.

"When was I ever wrong?" Shane grins, then stifles a laugh upon seeing Rick's expression. "You know, when you were in that hospital, the one you were never supposed to leave, you should have seen Lori. Th strength of that woman, you can't imagine that. See, that's what you've got to have now. I mean, Carl, he needs that from you. So you wire yourself tight, my friend. You hear? You got the hard part, just leave the rest to me, okay?"

"All right."

"All right."

The door opens ad Hershel walks out. Rick stands, facing the other man. "He's out of danger for the moment," Hershel reports. "But I need to remove the remaining fragments."

"How?" Rick asks. "You saw how he was."

"I know, and that was the shallowest one. I need to go deeper to get the others. There's more."

"Tell me."

"His belly's distended, his pressures dropping, wh—"

"Internal bleeding," I say. Hershel looks at me. "I've read books on field medicine, I know this. If there's internal bleeding, that means a fragment must have nicked one of the blood vessels."

"That's right," Hershel says. "I'll have to open him up, find the bleeder, and stitch it. But he can't move while I'm in there, at all. If he reacts the same as before, I'll sever and artery, and he'll be dead in minutes. To even try this, I'd have to put him under. But if I do, he won't be able to breathe on his own. Same bad results."

"What'll it take?" Rick asks.

Before I can respond, Otis steps forward. "You need a respirator. What else?"

"The tube that goes with it," Hershel answers. "Extra surgical supplies, drapes, sutures."

"And if you had all that you could save him?" Rick inquires.

"If I had all that, I could try."

"Nearest hospital went up in flames a month ago," Otis says. Hershel looks at him. "The high school."

"That's what I was thinking," Hershel replies. "They set up a FEMA shelter there. They would have everything we need."

"The place was overrun last time I saw it. You couldn't get near it. Maybe it's better now."

"I said leave the rest to me," Shane says. "Is it too late to take that back?"

"I hate you going alone," Rick says.

"I'll go with him," I volunteer.

"No way, Clary," Rick argues.

"Doc, why don't you do me a list, draw me a map," Shane says.

"You won't need a map," Otis says. "I'll take you there. Ain't but five miles."

"Otis, no," Patricia, his wife, argues.

"Honey, we don't have time for guesswork, and I'm responsible. I ain't gonna sit here while this fella takes this one alone," Otis says, nodding at Shane. "I'll be all right."

"Are you sure about this?" Shane asks.

"Do you even know what any of the stiff he's talking about looks like? I do, I've been a volunteer EMT. We can talk about this till next Sunday or we could just go do it real quick."

"I'll take right quick."

"I should thank you," Rick says.

Otis looks at him. "Wait till that boy of yours is up and around. Then we'll talk."

Maggie steps toward. "Where is she, your wife?"

Rick tells her, and she nods. Hershel and Patricia go back into the spare room. "I'll go with you," I volunteer. "I can lead the way. There's a better chance of them trusting you if they see me, especially my brother."

Maggie nods. "I'll get the horses ready. Do you know how to ride?"

I nod, and she walks outside. I turn to Otis. "Just so you know, if anything, anything at all happens to him, I will _beat_ your sorry ass into the ground. And _then_ I'll _kill you_. So you had better run like the devil himself is chasing you, and get that damn medical supplies," I spit.

Otis takes a step back, surprised by my threat. I walk out the door and run to the stables, my crossbow thumping my back as I run. Maggie rides one horse, and leads the other. I take the reins from her and mount the horse. "You've done this before?" Maggie guesses.

"Used to get a summer job teaching younger kids to ride," I say.

"How old are you?"

"Fourteen. They didn't pay me, they were just happy for the extra help. I've been doing it since I was ten. I was working when Daryl came and said that we needed to go to Atlanta, when the outbreak started."

"Daryl?"

"My brother. I'm the youngest. Now, lets go. We don't have time for chit-chat."

With that, we take off, riding the horses into the woods. I lead the way, and we come to a place that's familiar, when I hear a scream. We stop, and look around. "That's Andrea," I say. "A girl in my group."

Maggie takes off, brandishing a baseball bat, and I follow her. Letting go of the reins, I aim my crossbow and fire. The crossbow bolt hits the walker in the head, and it falls to the side. Maggie rides into the clearing, and stops her horse. "Lori? Lori Grimes?"

"I'm Lori," Lori says, walking forward.

"Rick sent me, you've gotta come now."

"What?"

"There's been an accident. Carl's been shot. He's still alive, but you've gotta come now. Rick needs you. Just come."

Lori takes off her backpack. "Whoa whoa whoa," Daryl says. "We don't know this girl."

I ride up, and stop my horse. "But you know this girl."

"Clary?"

"Lori, do you know how to ride?"

She nods. "I've ridden before."

I slide off. "Good. Take my horse, and follow Maggie."

I hand her the reins, and she climbs on. "Lori, are you crazy?" Daryl cries. "Don't get on that horse."

"Rick said you had others on the highway, that big traffic snarl," Maggie says. "Backtrack to Fairburn Road. Two miles down is our farm. You'll see the mailbox. The name is Greene. C'mon, Lori."

They take off, going back the way we came. Daryl helps Andrea up as I pull my arrow out of the walker's head. We go back to the highway, and tell Dale and T-Dog what happened. "Shot?" Dale asks. "What do you mean shot?"

"I don't know, Dale," Glenn says. "I wasn't there. All I know is Clary rode out of nowhere like Zorro on a horse and this chick with her took Lori."

"And you let her take her?"

"Rick sent us," I say, climbing over the guard rail.

Dale looks at Andrea as she climbs over the guard rail behind me. "I heard screams. Was that you?"

Andrea walks past him, ignoring his concern. "She got attacked by a walker," Glenn explains. "It was a close call."

"Andrea, are you all right?" Dale calls after her. She ignores him, and I sit down on the guard rail beside Carol. "We'll find Sophia tomorrow, don't worry."

I get up, and climb up on top the RV, taking watch. I sit on the roof, letting my legs dangle over the edge. Glenn climbs up and sits next to me. "You spend a lot of time up here."

"It's the only quiet place. The only place where I can think," I say, looking at him.

"Think about what?"

"Things. Sophia. Merle. At the moment, Carl."

"You blame yourself for what happened to Sophia. For her going missing."

"I left her. I could have stayed and kept quiet, but I left her alone. And she ran off. It is my fault that she's missing."

"You know that's not true."

"It is, though. If I had stayed quiet, not walked out into the creek, the walkers could have went past us. They could have ignored us. But I chose to do the dangerous thing, one that didn't need to be done. I left Sophia by herself, and she ran. Glenn, I promised her I'd stay with her. And I left her."

I look down, putting my head in my hands. Glenn puts his hand on my shoulder. "We've all broken promises."

I look up at him. "But I did the exact opposite if what I promised to do. I left her. Scared and alone. It's something I'll never forgive myself for, even if—and when—we find her."

"How'd you learn to shoot like that?" Glenn asks after a moment, changing the subject.

"That was a lucky shot. I've never been riding and had to shoot before. Or be that far away."

"You were, what, about fifty, fifty-five yards away?"

"Sounds 'bout right."

Glenn glances over his shoulder, then looks back at me. "You should have seen Daryl's face. Then, he looked at his crossbow like 'Did I do that?'"

I grin, and Glenn climbs down the ladder. I look around, but I don't see any walkers. I climb down the ladder and walk over to where the group is gathered in a circle, discussing the Sophia situation. T-Dog sits on the RV steps. "I won't do it," Carol says. "We can't just leave."

"Carol, the group is split. We're scattered and weak," Dale argues.

"What if she comes back, and we're not here? It could happen."

"If Sophia found her way back, and we were gone, that would be awful," Andrea says.

"It'd be more than awful," I say. "It'd be... Sophia would be devastated."

"Okay," Daryl says. "We've gotta plan for this. I say tomorrow morning is soon enough to pull up stakes. Give us a chance to rig a big sign, leave her some supplies. I'll hold here tonight, stay with the RV."

"If the RV's staying, I'm staying," Dale says.

"I'll stay. It's my fault Sophia's in this mess," I say.

"Thank you. Thank all of you," Carol says.

"I'm in," Andrea decides.

Glenn looks around. "Well, if you're all staying, then I'm—"

Dale cuts him off. "Not you, Glenn. You're going. Take Carol's Cherokee."

"Me? Why is it always me?"

"You have to find this farm, reconnect with our people, and see what's going on. But, most important, you have to get T-Dog there. This is not an option. That cut has gone from bad to worse. He has a very serious blood infection. Get him to that farm. See if they have any antibiotics. If not, T-Dog will die, no joke."

Daryl turns and walks to his motorcycle. He moves Dale's oily rags and pulls out a bag full of pill bottles. He walks back over and throws the rags at Dale. "Keep your oily rags off my brother's motorcycle." Daryl sits the bag down on the hood of the Cherokee and digs through it. "Why'd you wait till now to say anything? Got my brother's stash. Crystal, X, don't need that. Got some kick ass painkillers." He tosses a bottle to Glenn, and another to Dale. "Oxycycline. Not the generic stuff neither. It's first class. Merle got the Clap on occasion."

He turns and walks back to the motorcycle, while Dale examines the bottle, grinning. Glenn and T-Dog leave to go to the Greene's farm, and Dale takes watch on top of the RV for the night. Carol, Andrea, Daryl and I go inside the RV for the night.


	4. Save the Last One

Carol lays in the back of the RV on the only bed, crying over Sophia. Daryl lays on the floor, staring up at the roof, and Andrea and I sit at the table. She works on trying to put a handgun together, while I stretch my legs out and, unsuccessfully, try to fall asleep. Dale stays on top of the RV keeping watch. Giving up on sleep, I walk out of the RV, my crossbow over my shoulder. "What are you doing out here?" Dale calls from the roof.

"Can't sleep," I reply. The door opens behind me, and Daryl and Andrea walk out, carrying flashlights. Daryl offers me a handgun. "We're going to walk the road, look for the girl. You coming?"

I take the gun and nod. Daryl looks up at Dale. "I'm going for a walk. Shine some light in the forest. If she's out there, give her something to look at."

"You think that's a good idea right now?" Dale asks.

"Dale," Andrea says, glaring at him. She turns and walks off, and Daryl and I follow her. We climb over the railing and walk into the woods, Daryl and Andrea shining their flashlights. "You really think we're gonna find Sophia?" Andrea asks.

Daryl shines his flashlight in her face. "You got that look on your face, same as everybody else. What the hell's wrong with you people? We just started looking."

"Well, do you?"

"It ain't the mountains of Tibet, Andrea," I retort. "It's Georgia. She could be holed up in a farmhouse somewhere. People get lost and they survive. Happens all the time."

"She's only twelve."

"I was younger than her and I got lost," Daryl says. "Nine days in the woods eating berries, wiping my ass with poison oak."

"They found you?"

"My old man was off on a bender with some waitress. Clary, you weren't born yet. Merle, he was doing another stint in juvie. Didn't even know I was gone. Made my way back, though. Went straight into the kitchen and made myself a sandwich. No worse for wear. Except my ass itched something awful."

Andrea laughs, and Daryl gives her a look that says _I'll get you for that_. I grin, shaking my head. Andrea composes herself. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry, that is a terrible story."

We bust up laughing, then compose ourselves. "The only difference is, Sophia's got people looking for her," I say. "I'd call that an advantage."

We go back to walking in silence, until I hear a rustling in the trees. Daryl and I turn, out crossbows up. It stops, and Daryl and I look at each other. I nod, and he leads the way toward the sound. I follow him, Andrea close behind us. We come to a campsite, and a tree rustles again. Daryl shines his flashlight in the tree, where a walker hangs with a rope around its neck. "What the hell?"

Andrea looks up at the walker, her face a mix of confusion and horror. Daryl looks at a piece of paper hanging on the tree. "_Got bit. Fever hit. World gone to shit. Might as well quite,_" he reads. "Dumbass didn't know enough to shoot himself in the head. Turned himself into a big swinging piece of bait."

"And a mess," I add, moving to stand beside Daryl.

Andrea groans. "You all right?" Daryl asks.

"Trying not to puke," she says.

"Go ahead if you gotta."

"No, I'm fine. Let's just talk about something else for a minute. How'd you learn to shoot?"

"Gotta eat," Daryl answers.

"That's one thing these walkers and us have in common," I say. The walker reaches for us, but is held back by the rope around his neck. "I guess this is the closest he's been to food since he Turned. Look at him, hanging up there like a big piñata."

Daryl glances at me, and understands where I'm going with what I said. "The other walkers came in and ate all the flesh off his legs."

At that, Andrea vomits, then coughs. "I thought we changed the subject," she says, glaring at us.

"Call that payback for laughing about my itchy ass."

"Let's head back," I say.

Daryl and I turn, but Andrea stops us. "Aren't you gonna?" She gestures to the walker.

"No, he ain't hurting anybody," Daryl says. "Ain't gonna waste an arrow, either. He made his choice, opted out. Let him hang."

Andrea walks forward, towards the walker hanging in the tree. "You want to live now or not?" I ask.

She looks at me. "It's just a question," I say.

Andrea looks at the walker, and back to me. "An answer for an arrow. Is that fair?"

I nod. "That's fair."

"I don't know if I want to live, or if I have to, or if it's just a habit."

"Not much of an answer," I mutter, but aim my crossbow anyway. I fire, and the walker goes silent. "Waste of an arrow. Let's go."

I turn and walk off, one crossbow bolt left. When we make it back to the highway and the RV, Carol and Dale are on watch. When she sees that Sophia isn't with us, Carol climbs down from the roof and goes inside the RV, crying. Daryl and I follow her a moment later in while Andrea and Dale talk outside. Carol sits on the bed, hugging her knees to her chest. Daryl starts to walk to her, but I put my hand on his arm, stopping him. "I'll talk to her."

He nods, and I walk back to her. Carol looks up as I sit across from her. "I told Daryl that I'd talk to you, but, honestly, I don't know what I should say. Should I try to convince you that it's not my fault that Sophia's missing? That it's nobody's fault but mine that your daughter is missing? Because it is. I left Sophia, when I could have just stayed quiet and stayed with her. I didn't have to go out into that creek and draw the walkers away. I left her alone, alone and scared. And I can't even begin to say how... how sorry I am. It's my fault, and I don't blame you for blaming me."

Carol's quiet for a few minutes. "I don't blame you."

I look up at her. "What?"

"I don't blame you for leaving Sophia. I understand. You didn't want those walkers coming close to her. You couldn't have known that she would run off. You said that you were going to take her someplace safe, then kill the walkers. Then Rick came, and your plan changed. He took care of the walkers, but more came. I understand that you were only trying to protect her. At first, I blamed you and Rick. Lori convinced me that you were trying to keep her safe, and I thank you for that. And, then, when I heard that Carl was shot, I felt terrible for blaming Rick."

"No, no, no. Don't feel terrible for blaming Rick. I understand why you blamed us. We left Sophia alone. Carl getting shot complicated everything even more." As soon as I say this, all my thoughts are on Carl. "Oh, my God, Carl! When I left, Shane was getting ready to leave for an overrun high school to try to get medical supplies. What if he doesn't make it back?"

"Clary, relax. Shane will make it back. Carl will be okay."

"And so will Sophia."

Carol smiles, and I smile back at her. "We're going to find your daughter."

I get up and walk back to Daryl, who sits at the table. He looks up when I sit across from him. "So?"

"I think it went pretty well. Don't know why you're asking when you heard all of it."

"Just thought I'd ask."

I look past him at Carol, who has finally fallen asleep. I lean back, closing my eyes, and fall asleep. Daryl shakes me awake the next morning, and we make a large sign on the windshield of a car. We leave food and water on the car, and get ready to leave for Hershel's farm.


	5. Cherokee Rose

Daryl and I lead the caravan of Dale's RV and Shane's new Hyundai to the Greene's farm on his motorcycle. We park at the steps, and Rick, Lori, Hershel, T-Dog, Patricia and Glenn come out of the house. Shane, Maggie, and the two teenagers, Beth and Jimmy, stand in a line in front of the porch. The only one not here is Otis. I look at Rick. "How is he?"

"He'll pull through," Lori says. "Thanks to Hershel and his people."

"And Shane," Rick adds. "We'd have lost Carl if not for him."

I stand back with Daryl as Dale steps forward to hug Rick and Carol steps forward to hug Lori. "How'd it happen?" Dale asks.

"Hunting accident," I answer. I hadn't told them anything about what happened to Carl.

Rick nods once. "That's all. Just a stupid accident."

* * *

Later, we join Hershel's people for the funeral of Otis, who died at the high school. "Blessed be God," Hershel says, "Father of our Lord Jesus Christ. Praise be to him for the gift of our brother Otis, for his span of years, for his abundance of character. Otis, who gave his life to save a child's, now more than ever, our most precious asset. We thank you, God, for the peace he enjoys in you embrace. He died as he lived, in grace. Shane, will you speak for Otis?"

"I'm not good at it," Shane says. "I'm sorry."

"You were the last one with him, you shared his final moments," Patricia says. She stood quiet for most of the funeral, her blue-green eyes puffy and red from crying. I'm surprised to hear her speak at all, and she continues. "Please. I need to hear. I need to know his death had meaning."

She bites her lip to keep from crying anymore. He nods. "We were about done. Almost out of ammo. We were down to pistols by then. I was limping. It was bad. Ankle all swollen up. 'We've got to save the boy.' See, that's what he said. He gave me his backpack, shoved me ahead. He told me to run. Said he'd take the rear, cover me. And when I looked back..." Shane pauses and looks at Patricia. "If not for Otis, I'd have never made it out alive. And that goes for Carl, too. It was Otis. He saved us both. If any death ever had meaning, it was his."

With that, the funeral ends. We walk off, and Daryl, Shane, Andrea, Rick, Hershel and I gather around the hood of Carol's Cherokee. "How long has this girl been missing?" Hershel asks.

"This is day three," I say.

Maggie appears, and spreads a map out on the hood of the car. "County survey map. Shows terrain and elevations."

She lays rocks at each corner to hold the map down, and Rick studies the map. "This is perfect. We can finally get this thing organized," he says. "We can grid the whole area and start searching in teams."

Hershel looks at him. "Not you, not today. You gave three units of blood. You wouldn't be hiking five miles in this heat before passing out." He looks at Shane. "And your ankle. Push it now, you'll be laid up a month, no good to anybody."

"That leaves Clary and I," Daryl says.

I nod. "We'll head back to the creek, work our way back from there. That work for you?"

Daryl nods. "I can still be useful," Shane argues. "I'll drive up to the interstate, see if Sophia wandered back."

"All right," Rick approves. "Tomorrow then. We'll start doing this right."

"That means we can't have our people out there with just knives. They need the gun training we've been promising them. Clary, Daryl told me you have a gun. You know how to shoot?"

I nod. "He taught me."

"I'd prefer you not carrying guns in my property," Hershel says. "We've managed so far without turning this I to an armed camp."

"With all do respect, you get a crowd of those things wandering in here..." Shane lets his voice trail off, giving us an idea.

"Look, we're guests here," Rick says. "This is your property, and we—" he looks at Shane, "—will respect that."

Rick pulls out his revolver, a Colt Python, and sits it on the hood of the car. Shane hands over his gun, but I don't. Hershel looks at me, studying me with his blue eyes that are full of intelligence. "We're getting ready to leave, and I'm taking it with me," I explain.

He nods. "Okay, first things first. Set camp, find Sophia," Rick says.

"I hate to be the one to ask, but somebody's got to. What happens if we find her and she's bit?" Shane asks. "I think we should all be clear in how we handle that."

"You do what has to be done," Rick decides, looking down.

"And her mother? What do you tell her?" Maggie asks.

"The truth," Andrea says, speaking for the first time.

"I'll gather and secure all the weapons. Make sure no one's carrying till we're at a practice range off site. I do request one rifleman on lookout," Shane says. "Dale's got experience."

Hershel doesn't say anything. Rick turns to him. "Our people would feel safer, less inclined to carry a gun."

Hershel nods, and Rick thanks him. Daryl and I walk off, our crossbows over our shoulders. We leave to go look for Sophia, and I follow him through the woods. Daryl holds his hand up, telling me to stop when he gets to a clearing. I do, and he walks into it first. He motions me forward, and I push aside branches until I come out into the clearing. There's an old two-story house across the meadow. Daryl and I take our crossbows off our backs, and start forward. He kicks the door open, our crossbows up. I don't see anything, so I walk inside. Daryl follows me, an we check each room for walkers. There are none. I lead the way into the kitchen, looking for walkers. I turn as Daryl picks up a can of sardines from the trash. We look at each other, thinking the same thing. Sophia could have been here, and could still be here.

I look up, and see an half open pantry door. I raise my crossbow, slowly making my way toward the pantry. Daryl goes around me, and throws open the door. There's nothing inside, except for food. My eyes move toward the floor, and I see it. There's pillows and a blanket. Daryl steps around the door and looks at them. He puts his hand on my shoulder as I look away from them. "C'mon," Daryl says. "She could be close by."

I follow him out the front door, and we look around. "Sophia," I call.

"Sophia!" Daryl calls. We part, each of us going to a different side of the house. I don't find anything, but keep calling her name. "Sophia!"

Daryl echoes my calls, and I turn and walk back to the front of the house. Daryl kneels by a white flower, a Cherokee rose. I turn and walk off, and Daryl follows me a minute later. I walk ahead of him, back to the farmhouse. He hangs back a minute before coming back to camp. He's acting strange, a way I've never seen with him. I walk into the RV, where Carol sits in the back. "You cleaned," I observe, sitting across from her.

"Yeah, I cleaned up. I wanted it to be nice for her," she says.

I hear footsteps, and see Daryl standing in the RV, listening. "For a second I thought I was on the wrong place," he says.

Carol gives him a small smile and goes back to sewing. I set my crossbow down beside me as Daryl sits the Cherokee rose, now in an old beer bottle, on the table. Carol looks up at the sound. "A flower?" she asks.

Daryl shifts on his feet, clearly uncomfortable. "It's a Cherokee rose."

Carol doesn't give any reaction. Daryl takes a small step forward. "The story is that when American soldiers were moving Indians off their land on the Trail of Tears, the Cherokee mothers were grieving and crying so much 'cause they were losing their little ones along the way from exposure and disease and starvation. A lot of them just disappeared. So the elders said a prayer, asked for a sign to uplift the mothers's spirits, give them strength, hope. The next day this rose started to grow right where the mothers's tears fell. I'm not fool enough to think there's any flowers blooming for my brother. But I believe this one bloomed for your little girl."

Carol wipes her eyes, but smiles. She even laughs a little, enough to make Daryl smile. He turns and walks away, but pauses before going outside. Daryl looks back at Carol. "She's going to really like it in here, Carol."

She smiles as he walks out the door. I put my hand on her arm as she sniffles to hold back tears. "That rose bloomed for her. She's truly missed by everyone in the group, and we can't wait to find her." I pause, and chuckle. "I sound like I'm speaking at a funeral, sorry. Trust me, we won't have to have one for Sophia. There's Cherokee roses blooming for her, and none for Merle."

She smiles, then it fades. "You don't miss him."

"No. No, I don't." I stand. "I'm gonna go check on Carl."

I walk inside Hershel's house, as the light outside starts to fade. Beth and Jimmy look up at me from the living room. I point to the room where Carl is. "I'm here to check on him."

They nod, and I lean against the doorframe inside the room, listening to Rick talk. "Carl, I told you something earlier today about Sophia—"

"I know," Carl says, startling me. I didn't know he was awake. "Mom told me."

Rick chuckles. "Here I was getting ready to confess. I didn't mean to lie. I just didn't want to worry you. It's a stupid excuse but it's all I got."

"It's okay," Carl says. It feels good to hear his voice, after worrying if he'll live or not. "Do you think we'll find her?"

"I know we will. Well, I don't know, but I truly believe it."

"Clary thinks its her fault that Sophia's missing."

"Yeah, I know."

At first I'm insulted that they're talking about me like I'm not here, but then I realize they don't know I'm here. "You look tired," Carl observes.

"I am tired."

"Hey, I'm like you now. We've both been shot. Isn't that weird?"

"I think your mother would rather hear we got the same eyes, so let's keep that between us. But, since you're in the club now, you get to wear the hat. Didn't you know?"

Rick reaches forward, putting his dark brown sheriff hat on his son's head. Carl grins, and the hat falls over his blue eyes. I chuckle, and Rick jumps in surprise. Carl grins at me, and motions me over to the bed. I shake my head, and Rick looks back at Carl. "We'll pad the rim tomorrow so it sits better."

"Won't you miss it?" Carl asks.

"Maybe you'll let me borrow it from time to time."

"We'll share it."

Rick grins at that, and reaches to pull the sheet up over his son's chest. "Sleep now."

"Okay. I love you, Dad."

"I love you."

Carl looks at me. "You'll be back tomorrow?"

I nod. "I'll be back."

Carl smiles, and pulls the hat down over his eyes. I turn and walk out of the house, to where Glenn stands on the porch. I sit balanced on railing, leaning against a support beam, and hug my knees to my chest. "How is he?" Glenn asks.

"He was awake when I was in there," I say in between a yawn.

"You look tired."

"Daryl had me up early this morning. Don't exactly appreciate it."

Glenn chuckles, and I look down toward the campsite. Daryl enters our tent, after glancing up at Glenn and I. "Did you find anything today?" Glenn asks.

"No, and I hate it. Everyday she's out there, there's a smaller chance of us finding her alive, and fine. She's been out there this long, there's a chance she's encountered more than one walker. What do we do if she's bit? Even though I feel like if anything, anything at all happens to her, I feel like it'd be my fault, I agree with Rick. We need to do what we need to do. If we find her, and she's bit, then that's on me. If she's dead, then that's her blood on my hands. I left her when she needed me the most."

"You don't really think she's dead, do you?"

I put my head in my hands, sighing. After a minute, I look up at him. "When there's a missing children report, they have seventy-two hours. Seventy-two hours, then they're looking for a body. And that was before. Now, with the dead risen to eat the living, we have—what, twelve hours? Twenty hours? A day at the most?"

My voice cracks, and I stop, my cheeks wet with tears. Glenn slides his arms around my shoulders, and I lean into him. "Those seventy-two hours passed, Glenn."

"Clary," he says into my hair, "there's still a chance that Sophia's alive."

"I know there is."

I slide off the railing, and walk down to the campsite. I go into the tent that I share with Daryl, and he looks up at me. "You okay?" he asks.

I lay on my cot opposite of Daryl's, not speaking.

"Did Glenn say something? 'Cause I can take care of it if he did," Daryl tries.

"He didn't say anything," I say softly. "I'm fine."

Daryl props himself up on his right elbow, studying me. "No, you're not. I can tell by the way you're talking."

"We were talking about Sophia, that's all."

Daryl nods once, despite my voice cracking a little when I say her name. "Carol said you were going up to check on Carl. How is he?" Daryl asks, changing the subject.

"He's fine, just worried, like all of us. Carl was awake when I was in there."

There's footsteps from outside. "What was that?" Daryl asks softly.

I hold up my hand, and unzip the door. I see Lori walking to her tent. I zip the tent door back up, and sit back down on the cot. "It's just Lori, not a walker."

Daryl nods, and throws me a blanket from on the floor. "Go to sleep. Big day of searching tomorrow."

I throw the blanket over me and lay down. In no time, Daryl's snoring, and I fall asleep a few minutes after him


	6. Chupacabra

Rick, Andrea, Shane, T-Dog, Daryl and I gather around the hood of Carol's Cherokee, where the map is. "Alright, everyone's getting new search grids today," Rick announces. "If she made it as far as that farmhouse Daryl and Clary found, she might have gone further east than we've been."

"I'd like to help," says a new voice. I look up to see Jimmy walking forward. "I know the area pretty well."

"Hershel's okay with this?"

"Yeah, yeah. He said I should ask you."

"Alright then. Thanks."

"Nothing about what Dixon found screams Sophia to me," Shane says. "Anyone coulda been holed up in that farm house."

"Anybody includes her, right?" Andrea questions.

"Well, whoever slept in that cupboard was no bigger than yay-high," I say, my hand the same height as Sophia.

"It's a good lead," Andrea confirms.

"Maybe we'll pick up her trail again," Rick says.

"No maybe about it. We'll borrow horses," Daryl says, pointing to a ridge on the map, "and head up to the top of that ridge, get a bird's-eye view of the whole grid. If she's up there, we'll spot her."

Dale sits the bag of guns down on the hood next to me, standing behind them. T-Dog looks at us sideways. "Good idea. Maybe you'll see your chupacabra while you're up there."

"Chupacabra?" Rick inquires.

"What, you've never heard this?" Dale asks. "First night at camp, these two are telling us that this whole thing reminds them of the time they went squirrel hunting and saw a chupacabra."

Rick chuckles at that. "What are your braying at, jackass?" Daryl asks.

"So you two believe in a blood-sucking dog?" Rick asks.

"You believe in dead people walking around?" I retort.

Jimmy reaches for a rifle before Rick and I can continue firing comments at each other. Rick takes it from him. "Hey, you ever fire one before?"

"Well, if I'm going out, I want one," Jimmy explains.

"Yeah, and people in Hell want slurpees," Daryl says, swinging his crossbow onto his back, which only has one arrow left. I lead my brother to the stables after swinging my crossbow on my back. My crossbow has one arrow, too. I saddle two of the horses, leading them out of their stalls. Daryl studies me as we climb on our horses. I look at him. "What?"

"You sure you're okay?" he asks.

"Yeah, I'm fine." Daryl raises his eyebrows. I glare at him. "If you ask me one more time, I'll kill you in your sleep."

Daryl holds up one hand in a surrendering motion. "I won't ask. I'm just worried about you. I get that you're worried about Sophia, but you can't blame yourself for whatever happens to that girl. I heard that conversation between you and Carol before we came here. She doesn't blame you. Nobody does."

"Someone has to take the blame."

"Okay, then blame the walkers that made you leave her."

I sigh, ending the conversation. I look up at the porch of Hershel's house as we ride by, and see Glenn sitting on the porch, guitar in hand. I wave, and he waves back. Daryl glances at me. "What's going on with you and Short Round? You spend a lotta time together."

"He's a good guy. A great friend. Good listener. I mean, you and Glenn are the only two that can get through to me." Daryl nods once, satisfied with the answer. "And his name ain't Short Round," I add.

Daryl glances at me as we head into the woods. I notice that Daryl's shirt actually has sleeves for once. All the other shirts he owns have the sleeves cut off. I chuckle at the thought, and Daryl glances at me, then shrugs it off. Daryl aims his crossbow at a squirrel on a tree trunk, and fires it. The squirrel is pinned to the trunk. Daryl pulls the squirrel off as we pass by, tucking it under his belt.

We continue on in silence, except for the sound of horse hooves. Daryl leads the way down a small hill, then signals for us to stop next to a cliff. He points down at the creek where beavers formed a small dam. There's a small shape, a doll. Sophia's doll. We look at each other, as if thinking the same thing. Sophia could be close. We climb off our horses and take our crossbows off our backs, then start to pick our way down the cliff. When we get to the bottom, we walk forward, keeping an eye out for walkers or Sophia. I kneel, picking up Sophia's doll. I stand back up, and pass it to Daryl. "Sophia!" he calls.

"Sophia!" I call. We look around for a few minutes, then climb back up the cliff when we find nothing. We climb back on our horses, and start off again. We keep going, looking for Sophia. Birds fly in front of us when we come near them, and our horses skitter nervously. "Whoa," I say.

"Whoa, whoa, easy. Easy," Daryl says. He looks over his shoulder at me.

"Little nervous today, I guess," I say.

He nods, and we continue. I look to my right, and down the cliff a few feet away. I can see a pond at the bottom. Then, I hear a snake hiss, and before I can warn Daryl, his horse starts to buck, whinnying. In response to the other horse's reaction, my horse does the same. "Whoa! Whoa, whoa," Daryl and I say, trying to keep our horses calm.

Then, Daryl falls off, unable to hold onto his bucking horse. I fall, my hand slipping from the reins. I give a yelp of surprise as both my brother and I start to roll down the hill. We try to stop, but we can't. We're heading for the cliff. We reach the edge, and start to slide down the rock. It's slippery from the water that runs down it. Daryl slides into the water, and I follow him. At one point, both of our crossbows came off. I cry out in pain as something pierces my side. Daryl and I lay side by side, breathing hard. He looks up the cliff, and I follow his gaze. The horses have galloped away, scared of the snake. He looks down at his own side, where his last arrow protrudes from him. Pain courses through my side when I try to move. "Son of a bitch," Daryl mutters as the water around us grows bloody.

Eventually, we manage to get to our knees, swallowing pain as we make our way to the edge of the pond. We grunt, falling to our knees after each step. Daryl and I make it to the edge, and cut the sleeves off of our shirts. We tie them around our torsos, forming a tourniquet. As we tie them, it moves the arrow, and I bite my lip to keep from crying out. I wipe away the blood that runs into my right eye. Daryl and I glance at each other, then look up the cliff that we have to climb. It's at least three hundred feet or more. We get to our feet somehow, and we each pick up a stick that'll support our weight. There's a rustling from the nearby bushes, grabbing our attention. We listen, quiet. Daryl turns and walks back into the pond, poking around for something. I understand and join him, looking for our crossbows.

We find them, and then walk over to the base of the cliff. We groan as we climb, breathing hard by the time we're ten feet up. But we keep going. After a hour or so of painful climbing, I can start to see the top of the cliff. I look down to see Daryl pausing, giving himself a pep-talk. I keep going, and make it to the top after a few minutes. I look back down to see Daryl miss a handhold, and loose his grip. He tumbles back down the cliff, and I close my eyes. I can either stay where I am, try to climb down the cliff, or go get help. I want to either stay or climb, but I know that Daryl might be hurt worse than he's letting on. I lean back against a tree, trying to decide. I look down the cliff, to where Daryl lays on his back. I close my eyes, exhausted from the climb and fighting the pain. I give up, and pass out.

"You know, you pull that arrow out, you could bind your wound better?" comes a familiar voice.

I open my eyes, just barely, but enough to see Merle. "Merle."

"Mmm-hmm. What are you doin'? Taking a siesta or something? You want a pillow?"

"I'm having a really shitty day. Screw you."

"Nah, you're the one that's screwed. All those years I was trying to teach you to be tough, and this is what I get?" It sounds like they should be his words, but I refuse to believe that he's here. It just doesn't make any sense. Merle's dead. "C'mon, Clary. Look at you. Just sitting there. Waiting to be eaten by a geek. What're you doing out here, anyway?"

"Looking for a little girl. A girl we lost."

"Mmm-hmm. You know, you're not looking for old Merle no more."

"We tried. Daryl tried. He and Rick went back for you. You weren't there."

"Same Rick that cuffed me to that rooftop, forced me to cut off my own hand? This him we're talking about?" Merle questions. I notice that he does have his right hand, the one he cut off. The way he was the last time I saw him. He's not really here. It's just a hallucination, caused by the pain. He keeps taunting me, telling me that my group doesn't care about Daryl or I. He's wrong, though. I start to fall asleep, and Merle hits my arm to keep me awake. "Hey, they ain't your kin, your blood. That's me and Daryl. Now listen. Ain't nobody gonna care 'bout you except me and Daryl."

He pats my shoulder, and stands. "C'mon. Get up, or I'll kick your teeth in."

He kicks my leg, over and over. Then, I hear the growls. Walker growls. I scoot away, kicking the walker in the head. I scoot backwards, whimpering in surprise and pain. The walker stumbles forward as I reach for my crossbow, but it's too far away. The walker falls on top of me, and I manage to push him off, grabbing a small fallen branch like the one I used to find my crossbow. I get to my knees, using the branch to beat the walker to death. It breaks in half, and I use one half to kill walker by driving the branch into its skull. I look up, only to see another walker coming. I curse under my breath, and look down at the arrow in my side. I grab it, pulling it out. I gasp in pain as the fetching goes through my body. I scoot back, grabbing my crossbow. I pull the string on it back as fast as I can, while glancing at the walker that keeps getting closer. I finally put the arrow in the crossbow, and lean back as the walker appears over me. I fire, and the undead man falls to the side, my last arrow in its forehead. I lay on my back, panting. I need to leave.

After a while, I sit up. I swing my crossbow on my back and take one last glance at Daryl. He lays on his back by the creek, his crossbow beside him. He's not moving, and, as far as I can tell, not breathing. I wipe my eyes, turning away from my brother, my only family. I start walking back to Hershel's farm. After an hour or two of walking, I stop at the edge of the woods. I can see Hershel's farm just across the field, and my group wandering about our camp. Glenn glances out to where I am, but I don't think he sees me. The camp's so close. I want to keep going, but I can't. It's been to much. I lean against a tree for support, and close my eyes for a minute. Then, I collapse.

* * *

I wake to the feeling of swaying in someone's strong arms. _Daryl._ "Daryl, where's Merle?" I mumble, keeping my eyes closed.

He stops running for a second to readjust me in his arms, and I cry out in pain. Pain courses through my left side, worse than it was before. I open my eyes, just enough to see that its not Daryl, that it's Glenn. I close my eyes, leaning into the Korean, my breathing hard and rapid. Glenn has started running again, and I hear voices from the camp as he runs through the gate. "Hey!" Glenn yells. "Somebody get Hershel! It's Clary!"

Everyone is talking at once, but someone says, "I got him," and Glenn runs up to the farmhouse. I'm mostly out of it for everything that happens, until I'm taken from Glenn's arms and put onto a bed. I completely come to, and see Hershel, Glenn, and Rick standing around me. Hershel makes me lay on my side so he can look at my arrow wound, and I do. "Hershel, she hit her head," Glenn says, sitting down in the chair. "She thought I was Daryl, and asked me where Merle was."

Hershel nods once. "Where's those horses that you and your brother took?" he asks me as he rubs something on my wound. I bite my lip to keep from crying out.

"You mean the ones that tried to kill us? Left the country, if they're smart," I retort.

"We call them Nelly and Shelly. As in Nervous Nelly and Skittish Shelly."

"Clary, where's Daryl?" Rick asks, kneeling to look at me.

I pause. "Nelly succeeded in her idea."

"Daryl's dead?" Glenn asks. He was slouching in a chair, but now he leans forward, his elbows on his knees. I close my eyes, unable to say anything. I don't want to believe it, but after those falls and the arrow, it'd be a miracle if he was alive. I lost my oldest brother a week ago, and now I've lost my closest brother. I'm all alone in this terrible world.

Hershel finishes with my arrow wound, putting gauze over it. He has me roll on my back so he can look at the wound on my forehead, near my hairline. He rubs the same liquid on it, and I grimace. The liquid burns. Hershel says it'll need stitches, so I bite my lip while he stitches it. A few minutes later, Hershel and Rick leave, but Glenn stays. I'm not sure if I want him to stay or not. I prop myself up on my elbows, looking at the Korean. "How'd you find me, anyway?"

Glenn looks up at me. His shirt is covered in my blood. "Went for a walk to clear my head."

I nod once, and sit up. Glenn scowls at me. "Hey, take it easy."

"I'm fine, so shut up. I'm a Dixon, we can take a lot of crap," I say.

Glenn shrugs, not being able to argue. He gets up and walks out of the room. I follow him outside, and he looks over his shoulder at me. "There's no getting rid of you, or changing your mind, is there?"

I give him a smile that confirms what he said. Glenn goes into Dale's RV after stopping at his tent, and I sit on the porch swing by the RV. A minute or two later, Dale enters his RV. He and Glenn talk, but I can't hear what they're saying. At one point, Glenn points at me through the open door. A while later, he smiles, then covers it with his hand. Dale scolds him, then Glenn gets up, walking back outside. "Thanks for the book," he says as he walks out of the RV. "You're right, it sucked."

"Walker!" Andrea suddenly yells from the top of Dale's RV. "Walker!"

"Just the one?" I ask, getting to my feet.

Andrea looks in the binoculars. "I bet I can nail it from here."

"No, no, Andrea. Put the gun down," Rick orders, but it's too late. T-Dog, Shane, Glenn and I grab our weapons and run out to the walker, Rick right on our heels, his Colt Python revolver in his hand. Shane grunts with each step; when he was at the high school, he injured his ankle. I hold my side with one hand, my knife in the other. I give an occasional whimper of pain. When we get to it, we stop, and Rick points his gun at the walker. It's Daryl, battered, dragging his crossbow, limping, bleeding, and he has something around his neck—walker ears. He's a walker, but I can't see any bite marks. "What the hell?" Shane exclaims.

"Is that Daryl?" Glenn asks.

"Daryl?" I ask, my voice cracking. Tears run down my cheeks, and Glenn puts his arm around my shoulders. I lean into him, sobbing. He rubs my arms. "Shh, Clary, it's okay. Shh, shh, shh."

"That's the third time you've pointed that thing at my head." A new voice, Daryl's. "Are you gonna pull the trigger or what?"

I look up from Glenn's chest. "Daryl?"

"Hey, Clary. So, Officer Friendly, you gonna pull the damn trigger?"

A gunshot rings out, and Daryl falls to the ground. "Daryl!" I scream.

"No!" Rick cries. Glenn tries to keep me back, but I push him off of me. Off balance, I fall to the ground. I quickly get back to my feet and try to run over to Daryl. "Clary!" Glenn cries.

Glenn's arms slide around me, and I try to fight against him. His hand brushes the wound from my arrow, and I cry out. He moves his hand, pulling me away from Daryl. I try to kick him, but he lifts me up so I'm kicking the air. At the moment, I wish I'm not as light as I am. "Let me go! Glenn Rhee! _Let me go!_" I cry, fighting against him.

Glenn spins me around to face him, his hands grasping my arms. "Clary, I'm sorry, so so sorry. Stay back, just stay back. I'm sorry, Clary." He pulls me close to him as tears keep running down my cheeks. "Hey, it's okay, Clary. It's okay."

I sob into his shirt. A week ago, I lost my oldest brother. Now, I've lost both of my brothers. I don't have any family left.

"I was only kidding," a familiar gruff voice says.

I look up at Glenn, my back to where the voice came from. "Glenn?" I ask weakly. "Is he... is he?"

"Yeah, he's alive," Glenn breathes. He's staring at Daryl. "Guys, what the hell happened to him? Is he wearing geek ears?"

"Better not let Hershel see that," Rick says. I look over my shoulder to see Rick and Shane hoist Daryl up, his arms around their shoulders. Rick pulls the walker ears off and sticks them in his pocket. I grab Daryl's crossbow, and T-Dog picks Sophia's doll up. I follow Rick, Shane and Glenn, and T-Dog follows me. "Hey guys," T-Dog says, "Isn't this Sophia's?"

We turn; T-Dog holds Sophia's doll. I had completely forgotten about it. I'm surprised Daryl kept it with him after all those falls. Then again, I would keep it with me no matter what. It's our biggest lead on Sophia.

* * *

Dale and Andrea hurry to meet us in the field. "Oh my God!" Andrea cries. "Is he dead?"

"Unconscious," Rick says. "You just grazed him."

Andrea runs over to me and pulls me into a hug. "Oh, my God, Clary. I'm so sorry. I'm so sorry."

"It's okay. You thought he was a walker. I'd do the same," I say. Andrea releases me and follows us up to Hershel's farmhouse. Inside the farmhouse, Rick kneels by the bed where they laid Daryl. He spreads the terrain map out on the bed, and I look at it over his shoulder. Daryl holds a cloth to his head to slow the bleeding from the bullet that grazed him. Hershel does the same to Daryl as he did to me. "We found it washed up on the creek bed right there," Daryl says, pointing to one spot on the map.

"She must have dropped it when she was crossing," I say.

"Cuts the grid almost in half," Rick says.

"Yeah, you're welcome," Daryl spits, glancing up at me.

Rick looks up from the map to Hershel. "How's he looking?"

"I had no idea we'd be going through the antibiotics so quickly," Hershel says.

"Not gonna ask 'bout the horses?" Daryl asks.

"Already filled him in. Nervous Nelly and Skittish Shelly," I say bitterly.

"I could've told you they'd throw you if you'd bothered to ask," Hershel informs us. He dries his hand on a towel as Rick rises to meet him. They stand at eye level. "It's a wonder you people have survived this long."

I follow Rick and Shane out of the room. Lori rises when we walk out, and Rick walks over to her. "He'll be fine."

"I hate to say it, but I'm with Hershel on this one," Shane says, holding his baseball cap in one hand. It used to cover thick, dark hair, but Shane shaved it since the high school. "We can't keep going out there. Not after this."

"You'd quit now?" I ask harshly, facing him. "Daryl and I just risked our lives to bring back the first hard evidence we've had."

"That is one way to look at it. The way I see it, you and your brother almost died today for a doll."

I shake my head in disbelief. I can't believe what I'm hearing. Does Shane want to find Sophia or not? I sure as hell do, and I'll take more than an arrow in the process. I look up at Shane, wondering if he's kidding. The face I see shows that he's not. I scoff and turn, walking off as Rick takes my place. "Yeah, I know how you see it," Rick says, then I hear him follow me.

I walk outside to where Andrea sits on the porch steps. Dale follows me out, and Andrea looks up when we come out. "How is he?"

"He's fine," I say.

"How are you?" Dale asks.

"I shot Daryl," she replies.

Dale sits down beside her. "Don't be too hard on yourself. We've all wanted to shoot Daryl."

"Watch your mouth, jackass. That's my brother you're talking about," I snap, but give a small smile. There's been times that I've wanted to shoot my brother. Andrea looks at Dale and I sideways, a small smile on her face. I walk back inside, pausing to stop at the doorway of Carl's room. He's awake, his hat beside him. He looks up when I enter, a grin at first that grows into a worried expression. "What happened?"

I look down to where the arrow had pierced me. My grey t-shirt is now bloodstained, with a small hole in it from the arrow. I look back up at Carl, whose blue eyes have drifted to the stitches on my forehead. I don't see why I should sugar-coat it. "Daryl and I almost died today bringing back our first piece of hard evidence. Cut the search grid in half, though," I say, holding one hand over my wound.

Carl scoots to the side if his bed, gesturing for me to sit down. "I asked you to come back, but I didn't mean like this. I saw Glenn carrying you in."

I remain standing by the door. I look down, then back up at him. "Yeah, this isn't what I had in mind." I pause. "I should be getting back to Daryl."

"How is he?" Carl asks before I can leave.

"Worse than me. Andrea shot him. He'll be fine, though." I turn and walk into the hallway, almost walking into Carol. She pulls me into a tight hug, bumping my arrow wound. I wince. "Ah, easy, Carol. Got pierced with my own arrow."

Carol releases me. "Thank you. For everything you and your brother have done for my daughter."

"You're welcome, but I didn't do much. It was Daryl that did everything," I say. I remember what Daryl said to me earlier: _Blame the walkers that made you leave her. _He's right, walkers made me leave Sophia. It was a choice I had to make; stay and hope the walkers don't find us, or leave and make sure the walkers don't find us. I chose to ensure that Sophia would be safe from walkers, even if it meat leaving her alone to do it. I shouldn't shoulder the weight of losing her by myself. I'm going to be the one that finds her.

I turn and walk down the hall to the room where Daryl is. He looks up when I enter, his blue-green eyes following me as I cross the room. I sit in the chair next the bed, leaning my head back. A few minutes later, Carol comes through the door, carrying a tray of food. Daryl pulls the sheet up over his bare chest, looking over his shoulder at her. She sits the tray down on a nightstand next to the bed. "How you feeling?" Carol asks.

"'Bout as good as I look," Daryl answers.

"I brought you both some dinner. You must be starving." Carol offers him a small smile as he rolls onto his back to face her. Daryl flinches when she leans down, then stops when she lightly kisses his left temple. Carol straightens as Daryl remains silent, unsure of what to say. "Watch it, I got stitches," he finally says.

Carol turns to walk off, then stops in the doorframe, looking at Daryl. "You need to know something. You did more for my little girl today than her own daddy ever did in his whole life."

Daryl looks away from her. "We didn't do anything that Rick or Shane wouldn't have done."

"I know. You're every bit as good as them. Every bit." Carol turns and walks out, pulling the door closes behind her. Daryl doesn't say anything.

"She's right, you know. You're every bit as good as Rick and Shane," I say. Daryl doesn't respond. I think about my hallucination of Merle that was caused by the pain from my arrow. "Hey, Daryl. I need to ask you something."

He looks at me. "What d'you wanna ask?"

I chew on my bottom lip a moment before answering. "While you were out in the woods, did you see Merle?"

Daryl looks shocked. "How the hell'd you know?"


	7. Pretty Much Dead Already

I sit next to Carl on a log at the campsite. It's been about two days since Daryl and I were injured in the woods. Daryl sits across from me in a lawn chair, and Andrea sits a little ways away, sharpening a knife. Lori puts her arm around Rick, who stares into the flames of the fire. Carol walks over to Daryl, scraping more eggs onto his plate. We still haven't found Sophia, and it's clear that Shane has given up. He believes that she is dead, but the rest of us don't—and won't—accept it. We believe that she's still alive, holed up in an abandoned house or hiding in a tree somewhere.

Glenn looks up at the farmhouse, where Maggie stands on the porch shaking her head at him. Yesterday, Glenn revealed two things to Dale and I that he was supposed to be a secret. He looks across the fire at Dale, who nods slightly. Glenn gets up, walking to the front of the group. Nobody pays him any attention; they stay focused On their breakfast. Glenn sticks his hands in his pockets, and shifts on his feet. "Umm, guys," he says, and a few members of the group look up at him. He clasps his hands in front of him. "So... the barn is full of walkers."

That gets everyone's undivided attention. I stay quiet, waiting for Rick's reaction. Since he came to our camp in Atlanta, he has become our leader, not Shane.

* * *

We stand outside the barn, gathered in a circle at the doors. Shane stands close to the door, looking inside. He turns and walks back. "You cannot tell me you're all right with this," he says to Rick.

He walks past Rick, who turns slightly so they don't bump shoulders. "No I'm not," Rick says harshly, "but we're guests here. This isn't our land."

"God, this is our lives!" Shane says loudly.

"Lower your voice," Glenn orders, his voice softer than the others.

"We can't just sweep this under the rug," Andrea says.

"It ain't right, not remotely," T-Dog says. I nod once in agreement, even though I already knew.

Shane weaves through the group, holding his baseball cap that says _Police_ in one hand. "We've either got to go in there, we've got to make things right, or we've just got to go. Now, we've been talking about Fort Benning for a while."

"We can't go," Rick argues.

"Why, Rick, why?"

"Because my daughter is still out there," Carol says, speaking out for the first time.

Shane shifts on his feet, clearly annoyed with what Carol said. "Okay," he says. "Okay, I think it's time that we all start to just consider the other possibility."

"We ain't leaving Sophia behind," I say harshly, stepping forward from my spot beside Daryl.

"We're close to finding the girl. We just found her damn doll two days ago," Daryl says, stepping around Carol to face Shane.

"You two found her doll, Daryl. That's what you did. You found a doll," Shane says.

"Man, you don't know what your talking about!" Daryl and I all but yell at the same time.

"I'm just saying what needs to be said! You get a good lead, it's in the first forty-eight hours!"

Rick steps forward, putting his arm out to separate Daryl and I from Shane. "Shane, stop!" he orders.

Shane ignores the former officer and continues yelling. "Let me tell you something else, man. If she was alive out there, and saw you coming all methed out with you buck knife and geek ears around your neck, she would run in the other direction."

At that point, Daryl has had enough of Shane's bullshit. He lunges for Shane, ready for a fight. Shane and I do the same. Rick puts both of his arms up, pushing Daryl and Shane away from each other. I try to go around them, but Rick reaches out and pushes me back. Daryl tries to go around Rick's back, but Rick backs up, pushing Daryl and I away. By now, everyone is shouting at each other. Rick and Lori push Shane away, while Carol, Dale, and Carl hang back. Andrea pushes Daryl back, and Glenn pushes me. "Back off!" Rick shouts, ordering Shane to stay away.

Shane looks at Lori. "Keep your hands off me," he says harshly before storming off.

"Now just let me talk to Hershel," Rick calls after him. "Let me figure it out."

Shane turns, storming back. "What are you gonna figure out?" he yells.

Lori puts her hand on his chest, forcing him away from her husband. "Enough!" she barks.

"If we're gonna stay, if we're gonna clear this barn, I have to talk him into it. This is his land," Rick says, remaining calm. It's one of the reasons I prefer him as our leader as opposed to the hot-headed, short-tempered Shane. Sure, I stick with Daryl even though he's hot-headed and short-tempered, but it's not as bad as Shane. The former sheriff has a shoot-first-ask-questions-later nature. I agree with clearing out the barn, but not the way Shane wants to. Rick's way is more reasonable.

Dale steps forward. "Hershel sees those things in there as people."

"Sick people," I add. I went with Dale to talk to Hershel about the barn yesterday when Glenn told us.

Dale nods once. "His wife. His stepson."

"You two knew?" Rick asks, glancing over his shoulder at me. I remain flanking Daryl, standing slightly behind him.

"Yesterday we talked to Hershel," I answer.

"And you waited the night?" Shane asks.

"I thought we could survive one more night," Dale snaps. "We did."

"We wanted to say something this morning, but Glenn wanted to be the one," I say.

"The man is crazy, Rick. If Hershel thinks those things are alive or—" Rick holds his hand out, attempting to argue with his former partner, but all it does is make Shane yell. "No!"

The walkers begin growling loudly, banging on the chained wooden door, catching our attention.

* * *

Later, Carol and I follow Daryl to the horse stables. He carries a saddle to an iron structure built to hold them, and throws it on, grunting. He leans on the saddle, his breathing hard. Carol and I jog towards my brother. "You can't," Carol says.

"I'm fine," my brother argues.

"Daryl, shut up. You're not," I argue.

"Hershel said you need to heal," Carol says.

"Yeah, I don't care," Daryl says.

"Well, we do," Carol says softly. "Rick's going out later to follow the trail."

Daryl stands with his back to us, working to put a bridle on a horse. "Yeah, well I ain't gonna sit around and do nothing."

"No, you're gonna go out there and get yourself hurt even worse," I say.

"We don't know if we're gonna find her, Daryl," Carol says. My brother stops, and turn to look at her. I do the same. We look ether in disbelief. "We don't. I don't."

Daryl steps out of the stable, slowly taking a few steps toward her. I move to stand beside him. "What?" Daryl asks in disbelief.

"Can't lose you too," Carol says. Daryl drops the bridle and it lands on the ground with a thump. He steps around her, then throws the saddle off of its stand out of anger. He doubles over, clutching his side. Carol and I rush to his side.

"Are you all right?" we ask.

Daryl waves his hand dismissively. "Just leave me be," he says harshly.

He straightens, then stomps off. We watch him go, cursing under his breath. I jog after him, one hand on my wound from the crossbow bolt. "Daryl!" I call.

"Go away, Clary," he grumbles.

"Dammit, Daryl," I exclaim, exasperated, as I catch up to him. I grab his arm roughly, making him stop. He turns, glaring at me. "What?" he hisses.

"Do you want to get yourself killed?" I ask without missing a beat. "Do you really wanna go out there and search for a little girl who just might be dead? You wanna get yourself killed, and leave me alone? Merle's dead. You're my blood, the only blood I have left. We both know that Merle was a hallucination in the woods the other day. You know what he told me? You're the only person that truly cares about me. No one else. We both know we're outcasts in this group. Nobody cares 'bout a couple a rednecks."

Daryl grabs my shoulders, shoving me away from him. I stumble, and fall to the ground. My brother looms over me.

"Don't say that. That girl is alive and we're gonna find her," he hisses, and for a second, he sounds like our father. Our abusive, alcoholic father. I try to swallow my fear of Daryl being like him, but some of the fear must show in my blue eyes. When Daryl looks at me, his face softens, realizing it too. He doesn't want to be like our father, who Merle had become like. He kneels next to me, unsure of what he should do.

"Leave me alone," I hiss, trying to keep my voice steady. It works, but barely; my voice remained even, but it came out harsher than it should have been. I get up, walking away from my brother, not turning around to see his reaction. I'm not sure where I'm walking to. Maybe I'll just walk forever, leaving this camp and my brother behind.

Somehow, I don't walk forever, and leave this camp. I end up a big oak tree, where Lori cuts carrots for dinner. She looks up when I come over. "You okay?" she asks, studying me.

I sit on the ground next to her. "I'm fine," I grumble.

"You sure? You seem... brooding and pensive," Lori says.

I look up at her, and I'm saved from having to answer when Shane walks over. "Great," I mumble. I _am_ brooding and pensive.

Shane kneels in front of Lori. She continues cutting carrots without looking up. "I thought he was dead," Shane says, ignoring both me and my glares.

"Shane, I don't—" Lori starts, but is cut off.

"Then when he came back right then, right there, I wished he was. Not—not because you wouldn't be mine, but because I know that sooner or later he would be dead." Lori looks up at him; now she's brooding and pensive. "See Rick, he ain't built for this world, not for what it is now."

"You're wrong. You're wrong."

"Lori, how many times has he saved your life? I just... I want to know how many times. Because by my count, I've saved your life on four different occasions. And that's Carl's too. So I just wanna ask your, how many times has Rick saved your life?"

"That night at the camp. That night at the camp after the fish fry."

"No, no, no, no no," Shane says, standing. "See, that was me too. You see, Rick, he showed up late because he went on a suicide mission over nothing. Yeah, he joined in, but see, we wouldn't have been in that situation if he hadn't left because he felt that he needed to save a drug dealer."

I stand, having had enough of Shane's bullshit. I don't even come to his shoulder, but my give-'em-hell attitude makes up for the height. "Listen up, you jackass. If I remember correctly, you were running out of ammo when Rick showed up. And if I also remember correctly, you saw a walker coming for me, but you didn't shoot it. You were gonna let it take me, and why? So you could 'save' Lori's and Carl's lives? Because my brother is Merle? So you get off your high horse, and come down here with the rest of us in the real world. Where the real world's a shit sandwich without the bread. Rick has saved Lori's life more times than you have, so you shut your cakehole. And go to Hell, while you're at it. 'Cause that's my brother you're talking about."

I turn, and storm off before I can see his reaction. I pause before continuing, and turn around. "Hey, Shane," I call.

He turns upon hearing his name. I hold both of my hands up, giving him the bird before I turn and walk away. I see Carl sitting under a tree by our camp, so I go over with him. I plop down beside him, still fuming, and lean against a log, my arms crossed over my chest. "That son of a bitch," I mutter.

"Huh?" Carl asks, looking up at me.

"Nothing," I say, then see Shane coming over. "Oh for God's sake!"

Shane walks past, not saying a word. He's also fuming, and I'm not sure if it's because of me or what Lori said after I left. "Hey Shane," Carl says, getting up as the man stops. "Can I talk to you for a sec?"

I cover my face with my hands, suddenly bothered by just Shane's presence. "You okay?" he asks Carl.

"Yeah," Carl says softly, then pauses. When he speaks, it's more forceful and almost accusing. "I know that you think Sophia's dead, and that we should stop looking for her." I look up, watching, suddenly interested. "But that's bullshit."

"Hey, man, watch your mouth."

"We're gonna stay here until we find her."

Shane pauses a moment, considering this. "You think that's what we should do?"

"It's what I know we should do."

"Then we stay. And that means that we do whatever we got to do to make that happen. Mmm?"

"Like help out with the chores?"

"Like help out with the chores." Shane looks past Carl and at me. "And not getting into a fight with everyone, especially a leader."

I stand, and scoff. "A leader? Rick is our leader, and Hershel is their leader. You're not out leader."

"Carl," Lori calls. "Come here for a minute?"

"Why don't you go see what your mom wants?" Shane says, looking down at Carl. He nods. "Go on. And Carl, don't let me hear you talk like that again."

Carl walks toward his mother, who looks across the yard at us. "Leave me the hell alone," I say, then turn and walk off.

I climb up the ladder to the top of the RV where Glenn sits. He offers me a hand when I get to the top, so I take it. I turn and sit with my legs dangling off the side. "Sup," Glenn says.

I look over to see that Shane has walked over, but he ignores us. He goes into the RV, then comes back out. He looks up at Glenn and I. "You see where he went?" Shane asks.

"Who?"

"Don't try to shit me, okay?"

Glenn turns. "What?"

"Dale, Glenn. Did you see where Dale went?"

Glenn and I stand, and I take my place beside him like I stand beside Daryl; I stand beside him, slightly behind him. "Yeah, he asked me to run and get him some water. He said he'd cover me on watch."

"And he was gone when you got back, huh?"

"Yeah. You think he's okay?"

"Oh, he's fine."

"Then why'd he bail?"

I understand what Shane's saying. "So you wouldn't tell him which way he went."

Glenn glances from me to Shane. "I don't get it."

"No, man, you don't," Shane says, then walks off. He's going after Dale.

"Clary?" Glenn asks, looking at me for an explanation.

"I'll be back. Don't tell Daryl where I went," I say, climbing down the ladder. I hurry over to the tent Daryl and I share, where I keep the revolver I got from the tent in the woods. I grab it, and look at my crossbow. I don't have any crossbow bolts left, so it's useless. The revolver will attract walkers if I fire it, so I grab my knife as well. I walk back out, passing the RV as I tuck the gun under the waistband if my jeans.

"Where'd you get that?" Glenn asks.

I pause, looking at the Korean. "Guess we're lucky I don't listen. I'm going after Shane. Don't follow me, or tell Daryl."

I turn and walk away, into the woods. Shane has already disappeared into the woods, but it can track him easily. He's a man on a mission, not worried about someone following him. He tramples through the woods, leaving large tracks. I follow him to the swamps, where I can hear Dale's voice, and then Shane's. I stay behind a tree, waiting to see if I need to interfere. Shane stands on the riverbank, and Dale stands by a large tree, the bag of guns at his feet. "Yeah you are, Dale," Shane's saying. "Unless, well, you do have that rifle over your shoulder."

"You gonna shoot me like you did Otis?" Dale asks. He never believed Shane's story from the high school, and I didn't either. Like Dale, I think that Shane shot Otis so he could get away. "Tell another story?"

Shane chuckles. "No, man. When you really look at it, in the cold light of day, you're pretty much dead already. Just give me the guns. Do it now."

"You think this is gonna keep us safe?"

"Mm-hmm. I know it is."

"Rick is trying to get Hershel—"

"Dale, shut up. Just shut up and give me the guns."

Dale leans the bag against a tree, and pulls his rifle into his arms. "Am I gonna have to shoot you? Do I have to kill you? Is that what it's gonna take?"

Shane chuckles, and I put my revolver at Shane's head, pulling the hammer back. I was hiding quietly, but I think this'll get out of hand quickly. He flinches slightly at the cold metal, but then walks down the bank towards Dale. I keep my gun trained on him, but he stops when Dale's rifle is pressing against his chest. "Yeah. That's what it's gonna take."

Dale lowers his gun, unable to pull the trigger. "This is where you belong, Shane."

"How's that, Dale?"

"This world, what it is now, this is where you belong. And I may not have what it takes to last for long, but that's okay. 'Cause at least I can say when the world goes to shit, I didn't let it take me down with it." He shoves the bag of guns into Shane's arms.

Shane starts to walk off. "Fair enough."

I agree with Dale. This messed up world is where Shane belongs. Sometimes, I'm convinced he doesn't have a soul. I walk down the bank, nodding once as I pass Dale, then follow Shane back to the farm. Daryl, Carol, Glenn, Maggie, T-Dog, and Andrea stand in front of the steps, while Carl, Beth, and Patricia sit on the porch. Daryl turns when he sees Shane and I coming, each carrying a rifle. I had put my handgun in the bag, preferring the rifle. "What's all this?" Daryl asks, gesturing to the guns.

On the way back, I started to agree with Shane on the barn. I may not like the idea, but it's better than Rick's, which is taking a lot longer than I thought it would. "You with us, man?" I say.

Daryl takes the shotgun Shane carries. "Yeah."

I stand beside Daryl as Shane addresses the rest of the group. "Time to grow up." He glances at Andrea. "You already got yours?"

"Yeah," Andrea says. "Where's Dale?"

"He's on his way." He hands T-Dog a handgun.

"Thought we couldn't carry," the dark skinned man says.

"We can and we have to. Look, it was one thing sitting around here picking daisies when we thought this place was supposed to be safe. But now we know it ain't." Shane walks over to Glenn, offering him a shotgun. "How 'bout you, man? You gonna protect yours?" Glenn glances at Maggie, then takes the gun. "That's it." Shane looks over at Hershel's oldest daughter. "Can you shoot?"

"Can you stop?" Maggie retorts. "You so this, you hand out these guns, my dad will make you leave tonight."

"We have to stay, Shane," Carl argues.

Lori walks onto the porch, looking at everyone with a gun. "What is this?"

"We ain't going anywhere, okay?" I assure Carl.

"Now look, Hershel, he's just gotta understand," Shane says. "Okay, he's—well, he's gonna have to. Now we need to find Sophia. Am I right?" He kneels in front of Carl, offering him the revolver I put in the bag. "Huh? Now I want you to take this. You take it, Carl, and you keep your mother safe. You do whatever it takes. You know how. Go on, take the gun and do it."

Lori pushes Carl behind her, looking down at Shane. "Rick said no guns. This is not your call. This is not you decision to make."

"Oh _shit_," T-Dog suddenly says, grabbing our attention. I follow his gaze to see Jimmy, Rick, and Hershel leading walkers out of the woods.

"What is that?" Shane says, pushing past T-Dog. He takes off running, and we follow him. _"What is that?"_

"Shane!" Lori calls after him. This is ridiculous. Rick is leading a walker by a snare pole, a walker. Right now, Shane's plan is sounding pretty damn good.

Shane pushes the gate open, yelling at Rick. "What the hell are you doing?"

"Shane, just back off," Rick orders.

"Why do your people have guns?" Hershel asks.

Shane walks in a circle around Hershel and Rick. "Are you kidding me? You see? You see what they're holding onto?"

"I see _who_ I'm holding onto," Hershel states.

"No, man, you don't."

"Shane, just let it go. Let us do this and then we can talk," Rick says.

Shane, who has come to our side, dodges a walker's grabbing hands. Daryl and I have our shotguns aimed at it. "What you wanna talk about, Rick?" Shane barks. "These things ain't sick. They're not people. They're dead. Ain't gonna feel nothing for them 'cause all they do, they kill! These things right here, they're the things that killed Amy. They killed Otis. They're gonna kill all of us."

"Shane, shut up!" Rick yells.

Shane stops walking, separating Rick and Hershel from the barn. "Hey, Hershel man, let me ask you something," he says, pulling out a handgun. "Could a living, breathing person, could they walk away from this?"

Shane fires three rounds into the chest of the female walker Hershel holds onto.

"Shane! Stop it!" Rick yells.

"That's three rounds in the chest. Could someone who's alive, could they just that that? Why is it still coming?" Shane fires two more rounds. "That's its heart, its lungs. Why is it still coming?" He fires again, in the stomach.

"Shane, enough," Rick barks.

"Yeah, you're right man," Shane says, walking forward. "That is enough."

Shane fires once, hitting the walker in the brain. Hershel watches in horror as the walker falls to the ground. He sinks to his knees, looking shocked, as if he's never seen a walker killed before. He hasn't, he thinks that they're _alive_. "Enough looking for a little girl who's gone!" Shane barks. "Enough living next to a barn full of things that are trying to kill us. Enough. Rick, it ain't like it was before! Now if y'all want to live, if you want to survive, you got to fight for it! I'm talking about fighting right here, right now."

Shane turns and runs to the barn, while Rick yells at Hershel for him to take the snare pole. "Take the snare pole! Hershel, take the snare pole! Hershel, listen to me, man, please! Take it now. Hershel! Take it!"

Shane picks up a pickaxe and starts trying to break the chains on the barn doors. "No, Shane. Do not do this, brother! Wait!" Rick yells.

Shane breaks the first chain. "Don't do it!" Glenn yells, while Lori yells for her husband.

Shane throws the board, the one that was keeping the doors from opening, off, and pounds on the doors to get the walker's attention. "Come on! Come on, we're out here," he says, backing up while pulling his gun out.

The doors open, and the first walker comes out; a bald man in coveralls. Andrea, T-Dog, Daryl, and I run to stand beside Shane, firing at the walkers that come out. We pick them off, one by one, and they go down. Glenn appears beside me, firing at the walkers. Shane turns and shoots the walker that Rick's holding onto, so the deputy can join. Rick remains behind us. The last walker goes down, and I back up to Carl and Lori, seeing as I'm out of shells. Hershel's people look on in shock, as Dale arrives, looking at the walker bodies that lay on the ground. From inside the barn, there's a lone growling, and the sound of feet shuffling. I recognize the small frame right away, the skinny legs and arms, with the blue rainbow t-shirt. The bit of blonde hair that hangs down by her left shoulder is bloodied, her once green eyes now milky white. I drop my gun, sinking to my knees as Carol runs past, crying her daughter's name. Daryl catches her, both of them falling to the ground as Sophia begins to make her way forward.

Carl sinks to the ground beside me, Lori behind us. We put our arms around each other so we don't have to look at the walker that Sophia has become. The very thing I was afraid of; the little girl I lost becoming a walker. I lost her, took the blame for her going missing, and was determined to find her alive and in one piece. Carl and I put our heads together, as if we can block out the sound of Sophia's inhuman growls. Lori puts her arms around both of us, sobbing as well. "Don't watch," she tells us.

A gunshot rings out, and I look up. Daryl hugs Carol close to him, as if he can make it all go away. Rick stands in the front, Colt Python in hand. Sophia lays at his feet, and I try not to look at the bullet hole in the little girl's forehead.


	8. Nebraska

I stare ahead in shock, at the barn, at Rick, and at Sophia. Not Sophia, Sophia's body. _Sophia, I'm sorry, _I think, unable to speak. "Clary," Carl says softly.

I lean my head against his shoulder, sobbing. I promised Sophia I'd keep her safe, and now she's dead. I failed her. I failed Sophia and now she's dead because I can't keep a single promise. Carl puts his other arm around me, pulling me close to him and ignoring Lori behind us. I put my other arm around him, careful to avoid his gunshot wound. When I lean my head on Carl's chest, I can hear his heart pounding. He lets me sob into his chest, pushing my hair away from my face. "I know," he says softly. "It's not your fault, so don't even think that it is. Don't even think about it."

Sitting next to Carl like this, I feel like a kid for a minute. Then, I realize that I am still a kid. A kid growing up in a world full of death, where you can't be a kid. I forget about being a kid again, and switch back to being the girl I was a week ago. The one that cares about surviving, not kid stuff. I look back up, over at Daryl and Carol. My brother hauls Sophia's sobbing mother to her feet, his arm around her shoulders. "Don't look. C'mon, don't look."

Carol pushes Daryl away from her, then runs off, sobbing. Jimmy holds Beth close to him, who is sobbing. Hershel kneels next to a walker, Maggie by his side. Patricia stares at all the bodies. Daryl's blue-green eyes meet my blue ones, knowing full well that I'll be blaming myself. And he's right. Like I told Glenn, I left Sophia when she needed me the most, and now she's dead. She wasn't in a tree hiding, she was in the barn full of walkers. I vowed to find her, and I did, but not in the way I wanted to. I wanted her to be safe. But in this world now, nothing's safe. You think you've found a sanctuary, but something will happen, and it'll be ruined. It'll always be like that, and it'll never change. Sooner or later, we run. Sooner or later, we lose someone. So you have to suck it up, and adapt. Accept it. Not everyone will survive. There's a chance that I'll be dead tomorrow. There's a chance that we'll all be dead tomorrow.

Beth breaks away from Jimmy, running forward. Her mother was in that barn. Rick puts out a hand to stop her. "Shh, shh, shh. Wait wait wait."

Rick's right; all the walkers are down, but they might not be dead. Beth goes past him, pulling a walker off of a redheaded woman. She kneels, turning the walker over. The redheaded walker suddenly growls, grabbing Beth's wrists, causing the blonde teenager to scream. Rick, Shane, and Glenn are the first to react by running forward. Shane and Rick try to pull Beth away, while Glenn tries to pry the walker's hands off. The others run to her aid, and they manage to pull Beth away. T-Dog kicks the walker in the back of the head, and Glenn's wrists are in the walker's hands. Andrea grabs a scythe and drives it through the walker's head. Hershel, Maggie, and Patricia lead Beth away, up to the farmhouse, and Shane, Glenn, Rick, and I follow. "We've been out. We've been combing these woods looking for her and she was in there all along? You knew," Shane accuses.

"Leave us alone," Maggie snaps.

"Hey, Shane, just stop, man," Rick says, taking Shane's arm to pull him back.

"Get your hands off me!" Shane snaps, jumping back. He looks up at the others. "You knew and you kept it from us."

"I didn't know," Hershel says innocently.

"That's bullshit. I think y'all knew."

"We didn't know!" Maggie snaps, glancing over her shoulder at the officer.

"Why was she there?"

"Otis put those people in the barn," Hershel says, still shaken. "Maybe he found her and put her in there before he was killed."

"You expect me to believe that?" Shane shoots back. "What do I look like? Do I look like an idiot?"

"Shane, hey, hey, hey," Rick says, pushing Shane away from the farmer.

"I don't care what you believe!" Hershel exclaims.

"Everybody just calm down," Rick says, pushing Hershel and Shane apart.

"Get him off my land!"

"No."

"Let me tell you something," Shane says bitterly, pushing past Rick.

"Hey! Don't touch him!" Maggie barks. She slaps Shane's arm away from her father, then slaps his face. I'm really starting to like Maggie. Glenn pushes Shane behind him, putting himself between the farmer's daughter and the officer. Even though Maggie's jade green eyes are wet with tears, her voice is steady. "Haven't you done enough?"

She turns and mounts the steps, and Hershel follows his daughter, glancing over his shoulder at Shane. He stops on the porch, facing Shane. "I mean it. Off my land."

Hershel turns and follows the others into the farmhouse, and Glenn follows them after a moment. I sit on the porch steps, hugging my knees to my chest. I close my eyes, listening to Shane and Rick talk.

"What are you doing?" Rick asks. "Hey, what are you doing?"

"Daryl and Clary almost died looking for her, Rick," Shane answers. "Any one of us could have. I'm gonna tell you right now; that son of a bitch, he knew."

"He didn't know," I snap, standing up. "No one knew. Except for Otis, maybe, who—"

"He knew!" Shane exclaims, cutting me off before I can accuse him of murdering Otis.

"He's not like that," Rick argues. "He opened up his home to us."

"Put us all in danger," Shane retorts. "Man, he kept a barn full of walkers."

"So you start an insurrection, hand out guns and massacre his family. And you," Rick calls, since I had started to walk away. "You went along with his plan?"

I turn and look at the officer. "Your plan was taking too long. We had to do something. You wanted us living next to a barn full of walkers?"

Before Rick can respond, Shane speaks. "His family's dead, Rick."

"Well, h–he doesn't believe that," Rick says, quietly and calmly. "He thinks you just murdered them in cold blood."

"No, man, I don't care what he thinks."

"I was handling it, brother. I was handling it and you just—"

"You had us out in those woods, looking for a little girl that every single one of us knew was dead!"

I step in between the two officers, slapping Shane. He recoils a little in surprise. "You bastard! _You_ thought she was dead! We thought she was alive, you son of a bitch!" I exclaim loudly, then storm off.

"That's what you did," Shane says as I walk away. "Rick, you're just as delusional as that guy. You're handling it, huh?"

I go down to the barn as Andrea pulls a blanket over Sophia, not looking. Daryl meets me, holding his arms out for me. I walk into them, crying as I bury my face in his chest. He puts his arm around my shoulders, leading me away and into the RV, where Carol is. Sophia's mother stares out the window, glancing up when we enter before she goes back to looking out the window. He sits on the counter as Carol and I sit across from each other at the table. I put my head in my hands, pushing my dark hair back. A little while later, Lori comes into the RV, and I know it's time for Sophia's funeral. "They're ready," she says, but Carol simply shakes her head.

"Come on," Rick's wife tries.

"Why?" Carol asks.

"'Cause that's your little girl," Daryl says, a certain softness in his gruff voice.

Carol looks up at him, slightly shaking her head. "That's not my little girl. That's some other... thing." She sucks in her breath, then goes back to staring out the window. "My Sophia was alone in the woods." I look down; it's my fault Sophia was alone in the woods. "All this time, I thought..." Carol sighs, pausing. "She didn't cry herself to sleep. She didn't go hungry. She didn't try to find her way back. Sophia died a long time ago."

I feel a tear slip from the corner of my eye, and quickly brush it away as Lori leaves. I get up, following her, and Daryl follows me a moment later. He catches up with me, matching my stride, his body tense and brooding, his jaw set.

* * *

We all stand in a row facing the graves of Sophia, Hershel's wife Annette, and Annette's son Shawn. Everyone in Hershel's group is here, and everyone in our group is here, except for Carol. We break off, a few members of the group going to help burn the walkers. Carl, Glenn, Maggie, and Beth go up to the farmhouse, and I follow them a minute later. I go inside, leaning against the doorway to the spare room where Carl has been. He looks up when I enter, motioning me over to him. I sit beside my friend in silence, and he cautiously slides his arm around my shoulders. I lean into him, my eyes closed. I keep expecting to cry, but no tears come. I'm not one to show weakness, but everyone does at one point. I brush my hair out of my face, sniffling, and pull away from him. Carl chews on his lip, then drops his arm, almost as if he doesn't want to. He takes his dark brown sheriff hat off, then puts it on my head. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile, and I give a small smile at his attempts to cheer me up. I hear a thump from the kitchen, followed by a crash, then Maggie cries, "Oh my God!"

I scramble off of the bed, running out into the kitchen. Beth lays on the ground by the sink, with Maggie kneeling next to her. Glenn picks Beth up, then carries the teenager to her room. I follow them, while Carl goes to find Hershel or someone. Maggie leans over Beth, lightly brushing her sister's blonde hair out of her face. Beth lays with her blue-green eyes staring up at the ceiling, not responding. "Sweetie, can you hear me?" Maggie asks, and Lori appears in the doorway. "What's wrong with her?"

"She might be in shock," Lori answers. "Where's Hershel?"

"We can't find him anywhere," Glenn answers solemnly. Lori leaves to go get Rick, while Maggie takes Beth's hand in hers.

"Hey, kiddo," Maggie says, trying to get some response out of her younger sister.

* * *

Shane, Lori, Rick, Glenn, Maggie, and I stand in Hershel's bedroom, where boxes are on the bed and the closet door is open. The boxes are full of Hershel's wife's, Annette, things. Rick examines one box. "Your stepmother's things?"

"He was so sure she'd recover," Maggie answers. "They'd just pick up where they left off."

Shane picks up a flask from the dresser. "Looks like he found an old friend."

He tosses it to Rick, who turns it over in his hands. "That belonged to my grandfather, gave it to Dad when he died," Maggie informs the officer, taking it from him.

"I didn't take Hershel for a drinker," Rick says.

"No, he gave it up on the day I was born. He didn't even allow liquor in the house."

"What's the bar in town?" I ask after a minute of silence.

"_Hatlin's_. He practically lived there in his drinking days."

"Betting that's where I'll find him," Rick says.

"Yeah, I've seen the place. I'll take you," Glenn says.

"All right. I'll go get the truck."

"Okay."

"No, no," Maggie argues.

"It's an easy run," Glenn says.

"Like the pharmacy?" Maggie asks. She had been attacked by a walker at the pharmacy in town.

"Hey, Maggie," I say, laying on hand on her arm. "We'll bring him back."

"I'm coming," I inform Rick as I leave the room. I walk out of the house, where I can hear Lori, Rick, and Shane talking. I go down the steps, and walk across our camp to the field to the stone structure where Daryl moved our camp to. We moved away from the group, not wanting to stay after Sophia. Before I go over, I stop at the Grimes's tent, giving Carl his hat back. I forgot to give it back to him when Beth collapsed. I walk across the field, and Daryl continues making arrows from branches when I approach. "Hershel's missin'. I'm going with Glenn and Rick to find him."

My brother glances at me. "You sure you want to?"

"I can either sit on my ass blaming myself for what happened to Sophia, or I can go into town and find Hershel. I'm going into town." I turn and walk back up to the farmhouse, where Rick loads his Colt Python. I take a Glock 17 from the bag of guns, joining him at the truck. We wait as Glenn and Maggie say goodbye to each other, then Glenn walks down to us. "You ready?" I ask.

"Yeah," the Korean replies. We climb in the truck; Rick driving, Glenn sitting in the passenger seat, and me in the middle. We drive in silence for a while.

"Maggie said she loves me," Glenn says, breaking the silence. Rick and I don't say anything. Glenn scoffs. "She doesn't mean it. I mean, she can't. Sh–she's upset, or confused. She's probably feeling like—"

"I think she's smart enough to know what she's feeling," Rick interrupts.

Glenn shakes his head. "No, no." Rick laughs. "No, you know what? She wants to be in love, so sh–she needs something to, like, hold onto."

"Glenn, it's pretty obvious to everyone that Maggie loves you," I interrupt. "And it ain't 'cause you're one of the last men standing. So what's the problem?"

He chews on his lip before answering. "I didn't say it back. I've never had a woman say that to me before, except my mom, of course, and my sisters. But with Maggie, it's different. We barely know each other. What does she really know about me? Nothing. We're practically strangers. But I didn't know what to do with it. I just stood there like a jerk."

"Glenn, just shut up. She knows you're a great guy. I mean, you're sweet, caring, smart. You always know the right thing to say," I say, fingering the ring I wear on a chain. Daryl gave it to me one year, and I wear it on a chain instead of my finger. It's the most important thing I own.

"Not always," he mumbles. "Not at that moment."

"Hey, hey, this is a good thing," Rick says. "Something we don't get enough of these days. Enjoy it. And when we get back, return the favor. It's not like she's going anywhere."

Glenn looks down as we pull into the town. Rick stops the car, pulling the keys out. "Rick?" Glenn says, and the officer looks at him. "We know about Lori, her being pregnant. I got her those pills."

"I figured," Rick replies, then glances at me. "How'd you know?"

"Glenn told Dale and I when he told us about the barn," I answer. We climb out, carrying our guns as we head towards the bar.

"Hey, I'm sorry I kept it from you," Glenn says.

"Don't be. You did what you thought was right," Rick replies. "Just so happens it wasn't."

* * *

I push open the door to Hatlin's, and see Hershel sitting at the bar. Rick and Glenn follow me in, Rick standing in front of us. Glenn closes the door behind us. "Hershel," Rick says.

"Who's with you?" the farmer asks.

"Glenn and Clary."

"Maggie send Glenn?"

"He volunteered. He's good like that." Hershel looks over his shoulder as Rick makes his way forward, stopping he's at the bar. Glenn and I follow, and Rick leans on the bar. "How many you had?"

"Not enough," Hershel answers without humor.

"Let's finish this up back at home. Beth collapsed, is in some sort of state. Must be in shock. I think you are, too."

"Maggie's with her?"

"Yeah, but Beth needs you."

"What could I do? She needs her mother. Or rather to mourn, like she should've done weeks ago. I robbed her of that. I see that now."

"You thought there was a cure. Can't blame yourself for holding out for hope."

"Hope?" Hershel asks, sitting his drink down. "When I first saw you running across my field with your boy in your arms, I had little hope he'd survive."

"But he did."

"He did. Even though we lost Otis. Your man Shane made it back and we saved your boy. That was the miracle that proved to me miracles do exist. Only it was a sham, a bait and switch. I was a fool, Rick, and you people saw that. My daughters deserve better than that." Hershel pours himself another drink.

* * *

Glenn leans against the door, and I lean against the doorframe, both of us watching for any walkers that might come. Rick walks over. "So what do we do?" Glenn asks, his voice quiet.

"Do we wait for him to pass out?" I ask quietly.

"Just go," Hershel says. "Just go!"

"I promised Maggie I'd bring you home safe," Rick says.

Hershel chuckles. "Like you promised that little girl?"

I bite my lip to keep from snapping at Hershel. Rick starts forward. "So what's your plan? Finish that bottle? Drink yourself to death and leave your girls alone?"

Hershel's glass thuds on the bar as he stands, turning to face Rick. "Stop telling me how to care for my family, my farm. You people are like a plague! I do the Christian thing, give you shelter, and you destroy it all!"

"The world was already in bad shape when we met."

"And you take no responsibility!" Hershel snaps. "You're supposed to be their leader!"

"Well, I'm here now, aren't I?" Rick snaps.

He pauses. "Yes. Yes. Yes, you are."

Hershel turns away, and sits back down. Rick follows him, landing on the bar next to him. "Come on. Your girls need you know more than ever."

Hershel pulls his arm out of Rick's grasp, turning to face him. "I didn't want to believe you. You told me there was no cure, that these people were dead, not sick. I chose not to believe that. But when Shane shot Lou in the chest and she just kept coming, that's when I knew what an ass I'd been. That Annette had been dead long ago and I was feeding a rotten corpse! That's when I knew there was no hope. And when that little girl came out of the barn, the look on your face, I knew you knew it too. Right? There is no hope. And you know it now, like I do. Don't you?" None of us say anything. "There is no hope for any of us."

"You're wrong," I say softly, then speak up. "Hershel, you're wrong. There's always hope. You may not know it, but there's always hope. There will always be hope. If you're willing to look, or try hard enough, you will see that there's hope. I had hope that we'd find Sophia, or if we couldn't, we'd at least know what happened to her. And we did both. We found that little girl, the one that I lost, and we knew that she'd been bit. I knew that there was a small, small chance of her surviving, but I knew we would find her. One way or another, I'd know what happened to the little girl that got lost in the woods, the one that I _swore_ I'd protect. Sometimes it's stupid to hope, I know. But sometimes hope is all you have."

Hershel looks away from me when I finish speaking and goes back to drinking. "Look, I'm done," Rick says bitterly. "I'm not doing this anymore, cleaning up after you. You know what the truth is? Nothing has changed. Death is death. It's always been there, whether it's from a heart attack, cancer, or a walker. What's the difference? You didn't think it was hopeless before, did you? Now there are people back at home trying to hang on. They need us, even if it's just to give them a reason to go on, even if we don't believe it ourselves. You know what? This isn't about what we believe anymore. It's about them."

Hershel considers this for a moment. He then finishes the small amount of whiskey in his glass, and sets it down, the rim to the bar so it's upside down. The door opens, grabbing our attention. Two men walk in, one heavy and wearing a hat, the other skinny and wearing a muscle-shirt. "Son of a bitch," the skinny one says. "They're alive."

* * *

The skinny man sits at a table, while the other slouches in a bar stool. Glenn stands behind the bar, while I sit on it. Hershel remains where he was, and Rick stands in front of the skinny man. "I'm Dave," the skinny one says after Rick finishes pouring glasses of whiskey. "That scrawny-looking douche bag there is Tony."

The other man, Tony, chuckles. "Eat me, Dave."

"Hey, maybe someday I will," Dave says, picking up a glass. "We met on I-95 coming out of Philly. Damn shit-show that was."

"I'm Glenn. It's nice to meet some new people," my Korean companion says.

Rick hands Glenn a glass, then glances at me. I figure, what the hell, and take the glass. Who cares about the law? I don't really think it applies anymore. "Rick Grimes," the officer says.

Neither Hershel nor I say anything. Dave looks at Hershel. "How bout you, pal? Have one?"

"I just quit," Hershel answers.

"You've got a unique sense of timing, my friend."

"His name's Hershel," Rick says. "He lost people today, a lot of them."

Dave nods slightly, understanding. He looks past Rick, who perches on a bar stool to me, at me. "And, uh, how about the pretty lady?" Dave asks, trying to flirt with me.

I bite my tongue to keep from telling him off and tighten my grip on the glass to keep from flipping him off. Pervert. "Clary Dixon," I answer harshly.

"Ooh, damn. Better not mess with her," Dave says to Tony, referring to my harsh tone. He looks at Hershel. "I'm truly sorry to hear about your loss. To better days and new friends. And to our dead. May they be in a better place." We all raise our glasses in response, taking a drink of the alcohol. Dave downs all of his, then reaches for the bottle. Rick eyes the handgun poking out from under the waistband of his jeans. Dave pulls it out. "Not bad, huh. I got it off a cop."

"I'm a cop," Rick states.

Dave grins like an idiot. "This one was already dead."

Rick glances at the outsiders. "You fellas are a long way from Philadelphia."

"It feels like we're a long way from anywhere," Tony says.

"Well, what drove you south?"

"Well, l can tell you it wasn't the weather," Dave says. "I must have dropped thirty pounds in sweat alone down here."

"I wish," Tony replies.

"No, first it was DC. I heard there might be some kind of refugee camp, but the roads were so jammed, we never even got close. We decided to get off the highway, into the sticks, keep hauling ass. Every group we came across had a new rumor about a way out of this thing."

"One guy told us there was the Coast Guard sitting in the Gulf, sending ferries to the islands."

"The latest was a rail yard in Montgomery running trains to the middle of the county. Kansas, Nebraska."

"Nebraska?" Glenn repeats.

"Low population. Lots of guns," Tony says.

"Kinda makes sense."

"Ever been to Nebraska, kid?" Dave asks. "Reason they call 'em flyover states."

"Hey, I happen to like Nebraska. Went hunting there once," I say.

"So, how about you guys?" Dave inquires, as if I didn't speak.

"Fort Benning, eventually," Rick says.

"I hate to piss in your cornflakes, officer, but we ran across a grunt who was stationed at Benning. Said the place was overrun by lamebrains."

"Wait, Fort Benning is gone? Are you for real?" Glenn asks.

"Sadly, I am. Ugly truth is there is no way out of this mess. Just keep going from one pipe dream to the next, praying one of these mindless freaks doesn't grab ahold of you when you sleep."

"If you sleep," Tony adds.

"Yeah, it doesn't look like you guys are hanging your hats here. You holed up somewhere else?"

"Not really," Rick says after a pause.

"Those your cars out front?"

"Yeah. Why?" Glenn says.

"We're living in ours. Those look kinda empty, clean. Where's all your gear?"

"We're with a larger group," Hershel says. "Out scouting, thought we could use a drink."

"A drink? Hershel, I thought you quit," Dave says with feigned surprise. He becomes serious when we don't laugh. "Well, we're thinking of setting up around here. Is it safe?"

"It can be. Although I have killed a couple of walkers around here," Glenn replies.

"Walkers? That what you call them?"

"Yeah."

"That's good. I like that. I like that better than lamebrains."

"More succinct," Tony says.

"Okay, Tony went to college," Dave says.

"Two years."

"So what, you guys set up on the outskirts or something? That new development?"

"Trailer park or something? A farm?" Tony asks, walking over to the other side of the room.

"Old McDonald had a farm," Dave sings, causing Tony to continue singing it. Dave glances at singing companion, then back at us. "You got a farm?"

"Is it safe?" Tony inquires.

"It's gotta be. You got food, water?"

"You got cooze? Ain't had a piece of ass in weeks." And that confirms that they are perverts, or Tony at least.

I put my now empty glass down next to me and sit on my hand to keep from flipping Tony off. Dave rubs his forehead, clearly used to having to put up with Tony. "Listen, pardon my friend. City kids, they got no tact. No disrespect. So listen, Glenn—"

"We've said enough," Rick interrupts.

"Well, hang on a second. This farm, it sounds pretty sweet. Don't it sound sweet, Tony?"

"Yeah, real sweet," Dave's companion says.

"How about a little southern hospitality? We got some buddies back at camp, been having a real hard time. I don't see why you can't make room for a few more. We could pool our resources, our manpower."

"Look, I'm sorry. That's not an option," Rick says.

"Doesn't sound like it'd be a problem."

"I'm sorry. We can't," Hershel says.

"We can't take in any more," Rick adds.

Dave chuckles. "You guys are something else. I thought, you know, I thought we were friends. We got people we got to look out for, too."

"We don't know anything about you."

"No, that's true. You don't know anything about us. You don't know we've had to go through our there, the things we've had to do. I bet you've had to go some of those same things yourself, am I right?" Rick gives no reaction. "'Cause ain't nobody's hands clean in what's left of this world. We're all the same. So come on, let's take a nice friendly hayride to this farm and we'll get to know each other."

Rick looks down at the glass in his hands, then back up. "That's not gonna happen."

"Rick—"

"This is bullshit," Tony snaps.

"Calm down," Rick says.

"Don't tell me to calm down. Don't ever tell me to calm down."

"Then why don't you shut the—" I start to say, but Tony continues.

"I'll shoot you four assholes in the head and take your damn farm!"

Rick stands, and I slide off the bar, both of us ready for a fight. Dave stands. "Whoa whoa whoa whoa. Relax. Take it easy. Nobody's killing anybody. Nobody's shooing anybody. Right, Rick?" Dave says, climbing over the bar.

Rick and I turn to him, our right hands hovering over our guns. Tony reaches for his, and Dave puts his on the counter. "We're just friends having a drink. That's all," Dar says calmly, taking his hands away from the gun. "Now, where's the good stuff, huh?" He puts his hands together, rubbing them as he looks below him. "Good stuff, good stuff, good stuff. Let's see." Dave lays his hand on the counter, causing Rick to start to pull his gun out, but stops when Dave pulls out another bottle. "Hey, look at that. That'll work."

Rick crosses his arms over his chest, while I keep my hand on my gun. "You gotta understand, we can't stay out there," Dave says, pouring drinks. "You know what it's like."

"Yeah, I do," Rick answers. "But the farm is too crowded as is. I'm sorry. You'll have to keep looking."

"Keep looking," Dave repeats. "Where do you suggest we do that?"

"I don't know," I say, shrugging. "I hear Nebraska's nice."

Dave laughs. "Nebraska."

Dave reaches for his gun, but Rick and I are ahead of him. Rick fires, hitting Dave in the head and killing him instantly. I turn before Tony can fire and put a bullet in his stomach and lung. He slides down the wall, firing into the ceiling, and I walk over, putting a bullet in his brain. Glenn and Hershel look at us in shock. Rick stands over Tony's body, his gun aimed at his head, even though he's dead. Hershel and Glenn appear beside us, Hershel next to Rick and Glenn next to me. Rick and I holster our guns, staring down at Tony's body.


End file.
